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leiawritesstories · 7 months

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Who Gave My Wife Liquor?

Rowaelin Month 2023, Day 20: Drunken Antics

y'all know i cannot resist this prompt 🤭🤭 so enjoy some fun drunken shenanigans involving the whole court of Terrasen plus Fenrys, Dorian, and some potentially bad decisions (but no angst i promise). fair warning: it's total crack, i honestly don't think it makes any sense, but it's (maybe) fun

also based off a prompt sent to @rowaelinprompts: "drunk and clingy Aelin" ;))

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, intoxication, silly goofy times

Enjoy!!!

@rowaelinscourt

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Aelin was absolutely beaming as she descended the stairs and headed into the well-lit great room of the castle's private wing, where a fire was blazing merrily in the hearth and laughter spilled from the wide-open doors. Her heart was full twice over at the sound of her friends' laughter--they had all been through so much in the last ten years, and the fact that they could still laugh was a miracle in and of itself.

"You're late!" Dorian called, catching her arm and leading her into the informal party. "And about three drinks behind, Your Majesty." Grinning, his sapphire eyes just beginning to glaze over, he grabbed the nearest flask and poured her a cup, tapping his drink to hers. "Cheers!"

"And you have shit tolerance, Your Majesty," she teased, downing the short glass of wine in one go. Dorian rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "Lighten up, Dor. Not all of us have your youthful ability to recover." Dorian, as a human, had less tolerance than the Fae and the shifter and Elide, who could drink Lorcan under the table, but he also recovered rapidly from his hangovers.

"Again with the you're an old man jokes?" Lorcan clicked his tongue, smirking. "Wasn't it you who kept telling me to get creative?"

"That would be your wife, actually." Aelin raised her refilled cup to the hulking, dark-haired male, whose face flushed bright scarlet at her innuendo.

"Galathynius," he grunted, tipping the contents of his glass down his throat.

"Don't be so put off, darling," Elide soothed her husband. "Aelin's just grumpy because you made me scream so loud last night we woke the whole castle up."

"And I'll do it again tonight," he winked.

Fenrys spewed wine all over himself. "Fucking gods!" he shrieked, pretending to be mortified. "You lot and your insatiable se--"

"You're just as bad, Fenny," Aelin smirked. "Or should I say, good boy?"

The normally roguish blonde blushed bright crimson and said nothing, choosing to grab the nearest ounce glass of liquor and tip it down his throat. "How?!" he demanded, both mortified and genuinely curious to discover how Aelin had heard that little pet name.

She beamed innocently and threw back a shot of her own. "That's for me to know and you--and your pretty boy--to find out."

"Pretty boy?" Lysandra wheezed, slinging her arm around Aelin's shoulders. "Holy rutting gods, Fen, I knew you weren't particular in bed, but I never would have guessed you'd want to be the one taking orders."

Dorian was conspicuously silent.

Observant as ever, Aelin turned towards the young king, a smile so friendly and approachable that it was truly terrifying slipping across her face. "Dor, darling."

"Oh fuck," he muttered.

"Have you been satisfied with Lord Moonbeam's visits to your kingdom?" The enquiry was perfectly polite, even diplomatic, but the smirk on Aelin's lips added a twist to the innocent words.

Dorian picked up the closest flask and drained it.

Fenrys snickered. "Don't be shy, Majesty. We won't--ah!" His teasing was abruptly cut off with a soft yelp. Dorian flicked the blonde Fae a look heated enough to boil water.

Aelin had a very good idea just what (phantom) hands had silenced Fenrys before he could make an incredibly ribald remark. "I see."

"For a queen so revered, Ae, you have no propriety," Aedion fake-sighed, reaching across his cousin to grab the glass bottle of whiskey that had definitely come from the back of the cellar.

"Says the one who cavorted his merry way through the mountains," she retorted, passing her glass to be filled. "Say, how is Kyllian doing these days?"

"He's fine," Aedion said, too quickly.

Lysandra grinned and curled herself close to Aedion's side, whispering something into his ear that made him choke on his mouthful of whiskey and splutter the aged liquor all over his shirt.

She cackled, tears of merriment spilling out of her bright green eyes. "There's no need to worry, Aed. We're all friends here, no?"

"How sweet," Elide crooned. She pinched her husband's cheek. "See, Lor? We're all friends."

"Lorcan doesn't have friends," Rowan said, completely deadpan. He'd been lounging in a comfortable armchair, admiring his wife and sipping on his glass of liquor like the civilized old male he was.

Lorcan snorted. "Fuck you."

"Let's keep the past in the past, shall we?" Rowan smirked over the rim of his glass.

For the second time that night, Lorcan's tan face flushed violently red, and the room exploded into laughter.

"I knew it!" Aelin cried triumphantly, pointing at Lorcan. "I knew you and my buzzard were lovers!"

"Best he's ever had," Lorcan mumbled, barely audible.

Elide gasped for breath through her peals of laughter, clutching at her chest and clinging to Lorcan's broad shoulder for support. "We need to get you drunk more often, love," she wheezed.

"The hell you do," he grumbled. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"I have a GREAT idea!" Fenrys announced, rising unsteadily to his feet and brandishing his bottle of wine.

"You absolutely do not," absolutely everyone else chorused.

"First of all, that'sh' fuckin' rude!" He pretended to pout. "An' shecon'ly, it's a great idea!" He took a long drink from the bottle and pointed right at Lorcan. "Lorky, I dare you."

"You dare me to what, Moonie?" Lorcan shot the younger male an insolent smirk.

Fenrys beamed, which was both hilarious and terrifying. "Clothes off, an' pose as a sh-sht-stashue for three minutes."

"Fine." Lorcan drained the rest of his drink, stood up, shucked his clothes except for his undershorts, and strolled out into the hall. The others followed him, laughing and playfully ogling.

Elide wolf-whistled. "Don't be shy, Lor, pose like one of the ancient sculptures." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Most of us have seen you naked, you know."

Lorcan sighed, and Aelin swore she heard him mutter something about so much for keeping secrets under his breath. "I'm not drunk enough for that, Li."

"Pity," Aelin snickered. "You'd make such a well-endowed sculpture."

"Careful, Rowan," Lorcan drawled. "Your wife's objectifying other males again."

"Who gave my wife liquor?" Rowan called, laughing. "She only does that when she's drunk."

"You're mean," Aelin teased, frowning theatrically at her grumpy buzzard.

"Thought you liked me mean," he murmured, the words a wicked promise that set her blood alight. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and laid his hand against the curve of her ass, squeezing just enough to make her inhale.

"No!" Aedion yelped, throwing his hands over his face. "Shit, I'm standing right here!"

Lysandra doubled over with laughter, throwing a wink over at Aelin. "Look what you've done to your poor innocent little cousin," she giggled, unable to get all the words out without losing her grip on her merriment.

Aelin snorted. "Lys, if Aedy is innocent, then I'm a virgin priestess."

Lys wiped tears from her eyes. "All right, you--is Fenrys naked?"

Yes. Yes he was.

Completely undressed, Fenrys sprinted down the hall and back, grinning like a schoolboy when he reached the others again. "I didn't fall over!" he crowed, exuberant.

"Didn't stand up, either," Aelin muttered, half to herself.

Rowan coughed, a deep laugh billowing out of his chest. "Give him some slack, Fireheart," he laughed. "Moonie here is a little too drunk to perform as quickly as he usually does."

Fenrys shrieked in protest. "I perform longly!"

"Tha'sh'not a word, Fen," Dorian drawled, his words slurring together.

"Neither is anything the two of you are about to say to each other," Rowan whispered into Aelin's ear.

She around and pressed her face into his chest to stifle the fit of laughter that made her whole body shake. "You and your godsdamn impeccable timing," she gasped once she'd regained her breath.

Her husband winked. "I try."

Slowly, their dear friends began to disperse, first Fenrys and Dorian, the two leaning on each other for support but still staggering, then Elide and Lorcan, and finally Aedion and Lysandra. Aelin looked around the room at the empty glasses and bottles and flasks left on tables and couches. "Should we--"

"Later." Without blinking, Rowan swept her up into his arms. "Right now, you need to go to bed."

"Is that a promise, buzzard?" She looped her arms effortlessly around his neck, lowered her lashes, and smiled lazily up at him, sending a hazy image of slick skin and dancing flames into his mind.

He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. "Don't tease me, princess." His voice dropped to a thick rumble, the way it always did when she'd pushed just the right buttons. In a blur of Fae speed, he whisked them upstairs to their rooms, kicked the door shut, and laid her gently on the bed.

And she promptly fell asleep.

Chuckling softly, Rowan slipped Aelin's shoes off, changed into his nightclothes, splashed some water on his face, and slipped into bed, curling himself around her. She sighed and went boneless against him, her breaths deep and rhythmic. In moments, he was asleep as well, following his queen into dreams as he did every night.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

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@backtobl4ck

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luverofralts · 1 month

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Arkhelios Adventures

When Theo opened his eyes, his surroundings had completely changed. He was no longer in Strangetown-or so he thought. There was no desert heat or swirling sands. Everything around him was lush and green and peaceful. There were decaying ruins of a building rotting beside a fertile garden plot attached to an impressive building. Theo couldn't put into words how this place made him feel exactly. It was older than time, but living energy pulsed through the air, crackling with potential.

"What is this place? Where's Reogus?" Theo wondered, scanning the area for his unpredictable warlock guide.

All words left him when his eyes locked on a creature sitting high above the ruins, watching him intently. The creature was both beautiful and terrifying at once, life and death, abundance and scarcity. Theo had never before seen a being that made him tremble just looking in its direction.

"Apprentice Bellamy, I presume? Or do you prefer Theodosius? Titles are enviable, but when it all comes down to it, true names are what give us our power. True names are what bind us together, after all. Though I suspect that you know this already, having changed your name at such a young age. It's always so curious to me, seeing the tethers hook into your being, joining you to another. It looks painful. I wonder if it is."

Theo was fairly certain that he was actually on another plane of existence while his body remained safely in bed. At least he hoped it was because the look the being was giving him had a worrying threat underlying it. He wasn't sure of quite what to think of the mysterious being that seemed to be tearing into his soul with only his eyes. It wasn't a creature in the usual sense, but it wasn't human either. It looked male, but Theo got the distinct sense that the body before him was merely a shell for something more powerful to inhabit. Did this being trade bodies like some kind of hermit crab, always on the lookout for a newer dwelling? Was that why Theo had been summoned here?

"So quiet for such a usually spirited boy," the creature teased. Its voice sounded hollow and wrong, both booming like the roar of intense wind and chillingly scraping, like the tide clawing back dark water across sharp, rugged rocks. There was a natural cadence to its speech that ebbed and flowed between vibrant, booming authority and bone-chilling lifelessness.

"What fascinating perversions demons are," it continued. "I wish that I could take direct credit for their creation. Such creative minds always seeking power. They're more trouble than they're worth most times, but I respect their aspirations all the same."

Theo remained frozen in place, unsure if this being was actually expecting a response from him. He had no idea of what to say or how to escape this nightmare.

"W-where's Reogus?" he stammered. "Is he still here?"

"The warlock was sent back to his appropriate time," the creature reassured Theo in the least reassuring voice possible. "The Guardians of Time are a necessary but annoying function of this universe. If I could end their existence, I would, but unfortunately, I cannot. He will no doubt be back to bother you again in the future."

Theo gulped. At least this creature was talking about Theo like he had a future and wasn't about to be murdered by something unfathomable. As much as he wanted to know what kind of nightmare this creature really was, Theo was terrified to find out. Sometimes it was better to ignore something dangerous and just hope that it never came back again.

"Still quiet? I'll skip to my point then."

To Theo's horror, a man appeared out of nowhere, cloaked in powerful magic and looking merciless. When his face stepped out of the shadows, Theo recognized him instantly.

"That's me," he said, staring at the man in disbelief. "What's happening?"

"A glimpse into your future," the being replied. "One I have much interest in. You've been given power beyond your understanding with that little curse of yours. You will be great and terrible when you mature. Power beyond what your little warlock boyfriend could even imagine. Pray that you don't become too interesting though. The first demonic sovereign met with a grisly end because he had become too interesting to the wrong people. The wrong people being me,of course. He forgot his place. You will be difficult to erase if need be, but it can still be done. Never forget your place."

Theo opened his mouth, only to close it again quickly. He couldn't think of a single thing to say aside from "Please don't kill me".

"Theo, run! Teleport to the Void! Anywhere else! I'll try to help you, but you need to leave! You cant stay here, no living person can!"

Theo forgot how to breathe as he watched what he thought was Lukas, the deity of Life, stand their ground in front of him. They looked different than they did in the warning photos at school, but was still unmistakably the same powerful deity.

"I want to go home," Theo whimpered. He'd be mortified if anyone at home saw him like this, but this endless nightmare had taken its toll on him. Between seeing the casual murder of innocent people and enduring the presence of the creature in front of him, Theo was planning on drinking coffee and staying up, protected from dreams for as long as possible.

"The warlock you arrived with wished to tell you a secret. One that he hoped would change your perception of your power. One that may change everything for you. One that makes me very interested in your life. The culmination of Dorhack's little experiment in search of power: the hybrid blood demon."

Theo nodded, trying to appear calm while internally trying to recall how to get to the Void. It wasn't somewhere that he thought he'd need to get to on a whim. The image of his dark future self continued to be unnerving. Its eyes followed him, sizing him up, though for what, Theo didn't want to know. Could weird images of your future self actually kill you? It was a question Theo never thought he'd have to ask.

"A secret?" Theo repeated shakily, unsure if talking to the creature would be more dangerous than trying to escape. He wished that Reogus had just come out and said what he wanted to say while he was still there, if the being wasn't lying to him.

"Look at your potential, Theodosius," the bone-chilling voice replied. "You saw everything that Alpheus accomplished because he was a full demon from a pure lineage, while you're just a cursed hybrid from a backwater country no one has even heard of."

"Theo...." Lukas' nervous warning did no good. Theo had no idea of how to get to the Void or where he even was at the moment.

"You see, Alpheus was only half demon. He was a hybrid just like you. His human mother was from the Grunt bloodline, and his demonic father gave him the Toyonaga name. Alpheus killed his father later, of course, more proof that hybrids can be more powerful than their demonic sires. You, too, have that potential, Theodosius. It's why the Sovereign keeps her eye on you and why I've called you here to examine for myself."

"He can't stay here!" Lukas hissed, looking apologetically at Theo. "I keep telling you, living beings can't exist in the afterlife! You made the damn thing, you have to know how it works! I can only protect him for so long until my stepson shows up and makes his stay here permanent!"

Theo froze, unable to process the deity's words. He was in the afterlife? The real one and not where his step-father, Adrian, had spent years waiting for rescue? For real? All he had done was go to bed at night and already he'd been pulled out of time, the realm of dreams and landed where no living soul belonged. What was this creature that scared even a deity?

"Your words are true," the creature acknowledged grudgingly. "I can see it draw breath. Full demons can travel between realms at will. For all of its power, it seems it cannot. An interesting note to keep in mind for the future."

The creature landed on the ground, unfurling majestic, dark wings as it fell. It landed close to the frightened teen, close enough for Theo to feel the breeze created from the ruffling feathers. The being rose slowly, carefully measuring Theo with his eyes as he did.

"I was curious to see the much talked about hybrid in person, but not enough to end a promising future with an accidental death. You have my permission to return the boy to the realm of the living. I've seen enough for now. I can see the pieces of my will begin to fall into place. I am...pleased. Is that the word? Yes. Pleased."

Theo couldn't bear to look this mysterious being in the eyes and see the hollow flicker of light behind them. Whatever was standing before him scared gods into submission and that same being had plans for Theo. However serious these plans were, Theo didn't want to know. He was just a scared fourteen year old boy who loved his family, his friends, and his boyfriend. He had no future plans except for marrying Adam and going to college. Apparently, some beings had other plans for him and that was terrifying beyond words.

Theo squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that he would soon wake up in his own bed, this impossible nightmare finally ended.

"Please wake up, please wake up," he chanted quietly to himself.

Whether it takes a year or a century, my plan will be completed. Through your example, I may find the path I need. Until then, little demon.

Theo could hear the voice in the back of his mind, scraping across his thoughts. It was like having ice-cold water poured over his head, pouring into his thoughts. An image of a woman flickered into his mind for the briefest of moments, barely long enough for Theo to register what she looked like. She was pretty, that much he could remember. Pretty, but sad and mysterious at the same time. Unlike the creature before him, thinking about this woman was pleasant. There was the subtle hint of danger and power, but nothing that terrified him quite like the being before him.

"What?" Theo looked anxiously around him for any trace of the woman or the dangerous being that had projected her. "Hello?"

"What the hell?"

Theo bolted up in his bed, completely awake and more than slightly frightened about the visions he'd seen, promising a dark future and not much else. He looked over at Adam, who was sleeping soundly in the bed beside him and sighed in relief. He was home. He had his loved ones nearby to protect him.

"I don't understand," Theo muttered to himself. "Why does everyone care so much about me studying blood magic? I barely passed my magical defense class; I'm not about to run off and murder people more powerful than I am. I'm not going to murder anyone at all."

Downstairs, two cousins met up for a late night snack. Despina wanted to get some juice, but was hesitant. She'd only gained some courage upon hearing Remy boldly walk past her bedroom door. If Remy was sneaking out at night too, then it had to be okay.

"So what are you sneaking around for?" Despina asked, sipping her drink and watching as Remy did the same. "I just wanted a snack, but you seem to be on a mission of some kind. Are you meeting someone?"

Despina looked eager to gossip with her cousin about boys or girls or anything else that came to mind, while Remy looked less than enthusiastic about the idea.

"Sometimes I meet up with Malika," Remy admitted. "I don't have a roommate, so it makes it easier to sleep together. I guess she's not interested or is too busy tonight. When she's not around, I like to see who's still up while the whole school sleeps. You meet interesting people that way."

"Oh, you and Malika are...hooking up? I didn't know."

"It's a boarding school," Remy said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone is having sex here, it's just what you do to pass the time. Do you have anyone you like? I could probably find you a date if you want."

"Oh, uh, no," Despina stammered, her fave turning beet red. "I've met someone really cute that started late like I did. He's really sweet, but I don't know if he likes me like that."

She blushed, thinking about Jasper and the immediate connection to him that she felt.

"Just throw yourself at him," Remy advised, sipping her drink. "You'll know right away if he's interested in you. It works for me."

"You're cheating on Malika?" Despina gasped in horror. "She's the best thing to happen to you!"

"Gee, thanks," Remy replied, rolling her eyes. "No, we're not exclusive anymore. I like her, but she's my first girlfriend. We both agreed to...branch out a little with our relationship. As long as there aren't feelings involved, we're allowed to hook up with whoever we want. I'd hate to live like my idiot brother who wants to marry the first guy he kissed."

"Is he sleeping with Theo?" Despina asked worriedly. Was she really the only person here who hadn't even kissed someone yet? Was Jasper sleeping around too?

Remy laughed just at the thought of her brother trying to seduce the naive, overprotected Theo.

"Ha! I doubt it. Can you imagine those two even knowing what to do? Theo's parents probably didn't even have 'the talk' with him, just a lecture on why sex would somehow kill him. And Adam? Sometimes, it's hard to believe that he's my twin. Is Eero anything like you or is he as useless as Adam?"

"He's okay," Despina replied. "We've only really had each other all of our lives. Both our grandparents are dead, so it's just been us and you guys and Aunt Edana. I'm sure he misses me now that I'm here. I miss him, but I know that my place is here."

"Yeah, sorry about my bitch mother," Remy said, rolling her eyes. "She has so much 'trauma' that she never thinks about anyone else. Absolutely everything is about her dead brother, which means that she's useless about anything else. Need help with your homework? Sorry, Uncle Adam is dead. Try to tell her that you think magic isn't really your thing? Nope, dead brother, can't have that conversation. Thank god for our Ewans. Dad and Ewan actually listen to us...sometimes."

"I would miss Eero if he died, it's understandable," Despina replied charitably. "Plus losing her entire coven? That must be devastating. I'll never know my parents, so I like to think that because my aunt misses them so much, they were worth knowing. Maybe my dad had a change of heart at the end or something. I don't know anything about my mom, just that your mom blames her for everything."

"You worry too much about your parents," Remy chided. "Who cares? Fuck them and their weird cult. All that matters is who you are and what you do. God help me if I was judged by my parents. They're the lamest people alive. They're fooling themselves if they think that I'm actually going to study magic in college and join their dumb covens. I'll do what I want and you should do the same."

"Hmm, maybe. I just got here though. I don't want to get kicked out after all that work."

"Yeah, fair enough," Remy conceded. "Just do whatever my dumb brother does then. Everything he does is to suck up to our parents and the council. Don't date a weird demon and they'd probably give you an award or something dumb like that."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Theo stood on the large balcony that faced Crystal Cove and tried as hard as he could to forget about his dream. What had happened to him and how much of what he'd seen was real? Was any of it real? What was that nightmarish creature and just how closely was it watching him? He had no one to talk about this with. Evren might know about weird realm crossing and magic, but there was no way that he'd keep it a secret from Theo's insanely worried parents.

Would Lukas tell him whenever he saw the deity next? It was always difficult to get an answer out of them when you didn't have anything to offer in return. They did have a history of appearing in Pleasantview, enough that there were warning signs with their picture on it. They had seemed upset in his dream, maybe he'd find Lukas looking for him.

Theo groaned, hitting his head rhythmically against the walled fence in frustration. Why was this his life? Saturnia and Luci seemed to be pretty normal, so why was he doomed to be stolen by supernatural beings on a whim?

Behind him, a twig snapped, alerting Theo to a presence sneaking up on him.

"Lukas, you have to tell me who-"

It wasn't Lukas sneaking up on the demon, but Adam. Theo immediately sighed with relief.

"Adam? What are you doing here? I thought you were asleep."

"I had a nightmare and couldn't get back to sleep," Adam confessed. "I pretended to be asleep when you woke up."

"I had the worst nightmare too," Theo groaned. "You wouldn't believe me at all if I told you about it."

Adam's eyes remained glued to the ground, unable to look at his boyfriend in the eye.

"I would. Because I was there too. The protector of the realm of dreams told me that the pull on you to a different realm also pulled me because of how we're connected."

A huge wave of relief washed over Theo hearing this.

"Oh my god, who do you think the terrifying creature was?" he demanded. "Even Lukas was afraid of it, and they're not afraid of anything!"

"Weird creature?" Adam repeated with confusion. "No, you were with that Maricourt warlock, talking about demons."

"For a bit, but that was nothing compared to that...monster that showed up. He took us to the freaking afterlife, how could you forget something like that?"

Adam paused. Theo looked sincerely terrified about this creature he was describing, so he wasn't just lying to avoid talking about the repeated warnings people were making about him.

"I never saw that. Luna took me home before that, I guess."

Theo tried to remember a woman named Luna, but failed. He'd ask about that later, once he could focus on anything else but the horrifying creature he'd faced.

"I can't believe you missed it!" Theo burst out. "I can't possibly even describe what it was like. Picture the most dangerous person you could think of times a million. Times infinity! It threatened me and said I was worth keeping alive, which is not the kind of reassurance that you want." Theo's voice wavered, slightly, in a way only his loved ones would catch.

"Adam, I don't know what to do anymore. Ever since my birthday, things just keep getting weirder and weirder. All these people are telling me that I'm dangerous and that hybrids are incredibly dangerous and that they're all keeping an eye on me. I don't want this life anymore, Adam. I keep closing my eyes and seeing that creature staring at me, waiting for something horrible to happen! I-I'm scared. I don't want to be special. I want to be like Saturnia. No one is threatening her for existing."

Adam's fears faded away, just looking at the horror that was clearly eating at Theo. Yeah, Adam had questions and fears of his own, but they were nothing compared to what Adam could see written all over Theo's face. Something had scared him and badly. Gone was Theo's usual air of defiance and rebellion. In its place was only horror and fear.

"Hey, it's okay," Adam said, pulling his boyfriend closer to him. He wrapped his arms around Theo and held him tightly. "At least you've got a warning about the stakes we're facing. It's better than just going in blind."

"The stakes we're facing?" Theo repeated. "Does that mean that you're going to help me when whatever happens to me happens? I don't blame you if you want to run from all this. I know I would."

"No one told me that our future wedding's off," Adam reassured the boy in his arms. "I'm not going anywhere. Besides, we're connected enough that you apparently pull me along with you even if I did leave. I might as well stay, don't you think? I'd miss kissing you too much."

Theo smiled faintly and relaxed his grip on Adam.

"I'd miss that too," he agreed softly. "You would tell me if I was doing something dangerous though, right? If I start...hurting people?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Adam replied, brushing some stray hairs from Theo's face as he did. "You could never be like Alpheus or your grandmother. There isn't a single evil bone in your body. Your Aunt Lucy, she I could see being dangerous, not you. You've never even cheated on an exam, Theo. I know that you're nothing like how weird people expect you to be."

There was still a small pit in his stomach when Adam thought about the desperation in Theo's eyes when he'd been presented with energy. He'd never seen Theo like that before. It was true that demons lived to collect enough energy to warm themselves, but Theo had never needed it to survive.

Now that Adam knew that he apparently had some demonic ancestry himself, it was harder to judge Theo for what he'd seen. If he also came from a demonic family, it was just a roll of genetics that kept Adam or his mother and sisters from possessing enough demon DNA to manifest the powers Theo possessed.

Would Theo change as they matured? Would he develop the same hunger full demons had for energy?

Adam's fear disappeared, feeling his boyfriend bury his face into his shoulder as Theo tried to stop his anxious tears. He knew Theo better than anyone. They'd been best friends since the age of six. He'd seen Theo through all the milestones of childhood, and he knew who Theo was deep down. Theo was both his past and his future, the person he loved more than anyone in the world.

"None of that matters," Adam swore, hugging Theo tightly. "I love you, that's the only thing that matters. We'll figure out the rest when we need to."

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios adventures #theo bellamy #sim: theo bellamy #adam darktide #lukas lane #despina darktide #remy maricourt

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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All I want...

Here's another banger by @mysandwichranaway!!!

Yes, I am sorry, it's another Ori, I cannot help myself! My God, but isn't this glorious?

Either way, here is the first part of the fic I wrote, inspired by this incredible work of art!!!!

(Title from the song All I want by Kodaline)

Words: 5.2 k (yes, I am sorry)

Characters: Ori x OC (named after a student and a horse)

Warnings: Slight angst, fight, past break-up trauma

Jacky sighed heavily as she pushed open the perpetually unlocked backdoor; she knew that it was a prodigiously stupid idea to break into the university only to roam around the corridors like some pathetic ghost—or rather, like the girl she had been when last she had set foot into these hallowed halls.

“Fuck,” she whispered as her breath hitched at the sight of the broad staircase that led into the arts wing. Why had her feet carried her immediately to the place she wanted to be in least?

Memories came flooding back and she gritted her teeth as if she could prevent them from entering her system by filtering them out thus—that was, of course, a ridiculous notion as they came from deep within rather than from the stale air surrounding her.

A shiver ran down her spine and she hugged herself like a lost child.

She had never known this old-familiar building to be this dark and desolate; when she had exited it over a year ago, every inch of it had been alive with music and the laughter of her friends. It felt like it had been a lifetime now and she almost missed it, but then she remembered why she had taken off as soon as the ink on her diploma had dried.

Was he still around? The last time anyone had tried to tell her about him, it had been believed that he had also left the city after his brother had been taken to jail, but who really knew when it came to Ori?

Jacky flinched—she had not even dared thinking his name in so long that it echoed from every wall like a curse she could not outrun. There were many things she had foregone in the long months since her hasty departure; cinnamon-flavoured drinks, cinemas, and her own hometown, all to avoid dredging up the failed love affair she’d rather forget.

Shuffling up the stairs to curl into a tight ball outside of the choir room, Jacky allowed herself a single moment of silent recollection. This was the sole reason why she had come here—alone—when nobody else was in the building after all. It was finally time to face her past and be done with it.

For months and probably even years, she had been stealing glances at the bright A-student in her creative writing class without ever chatting him up—her friends had told her that it was the man’s role to do that, and she had waited in vain for him to make the first step.

Torture, she reminded herself harshly, having a crush on Ori had always been painful. It had not been half as terrible as their almost-but-never-really stunt as a potential couple had turned out to be but—before the nostalgia could falsify the way she remembered things—she had to impress upon herself of how much agony he had put her through.

How long had she pined for him while her so-called friends mocked and jeered? How often had she lingered in empty corridors in hopes of catching a single glimpse of his blushing beauty? She had made a fool of herself and she hadn’t cared one bit, because—back then—she had truly believed that there was a chance for them to be happy together.

As she pulled her cold, trembling fingers through her hair, Jacky had to accept the humiliating truth: she had loved that idiot more than anyone before or after and a part of her was in love with him still. All the men she had allowed to graze her flesh since that incident had not been able to chase the impression his hesitant fingers had left on her skin, no matter how much she wanted them to chase away every remnant of the persistent sadness haunting her.

A choked sob escaped her frantically convulsing chest; Ori and she had gone on one single date—dinner in a small restaurant and a movie in the local cinema—and after, she had committed the unforgivable offense of leaning in for a kiss—nothing more sinister than that, a simple peck on the lips.

Ori had shied back as if she had struck him, his eyes wide with incomprehension and panic…and then, he had simply left.

For a week, she hadn’t heard from him—he hadn’t come to class, and nobody seemed to even remember that he was supposed to be there. At that time, Jacky had been almost certain that she was quickly losing her mind in her frantic search of someone who did not want to be found.

And then, just like that, he had come back. Furious and hurt, she had called off whatever the thing between them had been. Ori had not objected, and she still resented him for that.

Even now, she remembered the devastatingly cold and judgemental words of her friends; of course, they had merely tried to comfort her, but she could not fathom how being told that he had never liked her the way she had loved him could have helped anyone.

Had they not seen how much she was suffering? What she would have given to have him fight for her love?

It had been one miserable evening and it was normal that people expected her to move on easily—Jacky knew and understood that—nevertheless, she harboured resentment and disappointment still for the callous way those closest to her had waved away her distress.

She had been told that she chose to be unhappy and that she was blowing the whole thing up to irrational proportions—was it really any wonder that she had not been able to bear this city and these people a minute longer?

It didn’t matter anymore—all of this was in the past and he was thousands of miles away. She was alone—there was nobody here now to awkwardly comfort or harshly berate her.

“I’m past this,” Jacky whispered into the gaping emptiness of the stairwell resolutely. “I can sit here and remember without it tearing me apart, can’t I?”

The simple answer to that rhetorical question was “No”. Her eyes were stinging because she refused to blink—every time she closed her eyes, she could see him walking up and down the stairs ahead of her, lost in thought, his mouth curled into an absent-minded smile.

The very air around her seemed to remember the smell of his skin and the silence whispered in echoes of his soft voice. It had been a mistake to come here, Jacky realised, she was not getting any closure, she was merely a beast trapped in quicksand that dug itself in deeper with every moment of lung-bursting struggle against the inevitable.

Getting to her feet laboriously, she headed down the stairs again. Her steps slowed as she caught the reflection of a door—inexplicably ajar—in the arts’ corridor. Jacky knew the groundskeeper too well to believe that he would have forgotten to close a door behind which some very expensive supplies were kept.

As she drew nearer, she started. The open door led to the arts’ teachers private atelier—there was no way anyone would have neglected to close and lock that one.

Bravely or recklessly, she crept into the room.

Ori stared out of the window for a long time, letting his thoughts wander down paths that cut like barbed wire into his soul as he had done on so many nights before.

Nori was back from his stint in prison and Ori was glad—he truly was—but he couldn’t bear sitting at home and watching Dori fuss about his brother without having to swallow frantically to keep himself from spouting unfair, angry words at them.

They had only ever wanted what was best for him, he knew, but he couldn’t forget what they and their bad decisions had cost him so many months ago—he certainly was fiercely aware of it, and it struck him as profoundly unjust that they lived in blissful ignorance of the devastation they had inadvertently wrought.

Maybe he had left town after his graduation to punish them, maybe, it had been more than a broken heart he had wanted to hide from the world. Perhaps, he thought now with a little sigh, it had been spite.

“Are you sure about her?” Dori had asked—he had been so preoccupied with Nori’s upcoming stay behind bars that he had barely been listening to his younger brother when he had been talking about the girl he was taking out, but he had not missed the chance to express his doubt and discontentment. No doubt, Dori had found the whole thing frivolous and disrespectful to Nori who had so much more serious concerns to consider.

In an act of rare defiance, Ori had gone to his date nonetheless, and had promptly ruined it for Jacky and himself by thinking about Nori’s need and Dori’s disapproval obsessively the whole evening.

As if he had not been nervous enough! It was a testament to his bad luck and utter incompetence that he had wrecked something he had been wishing and hoping for so fervently for so long a time, and he knew that it was petty to blame his brothers when it was clearly his fault that he had lost the most precious thing in his life before ever really grasping the chance to have it.

As they had exited the movie theatre, he had thought—he had truly believed even—that he could salvage the date…until Jacky had leaned in for a kiss and he had frozen up under her warm lips like a deer in headlights. He had imagined and dreamed of that scene so often that—when it finally happened—he was unable to extricate himself from the cocoon of daydreams that was his armour and his sanctuary.

Oh, the look of disappointment and hurt in her eyes—he’d never forget it and he’d never forgive himself for just running away.

He had been terrified that—were he to put his arms around her—he would never be able to let go of her again. Too long had he yearned for her not to fall prey to the most despicable and unpardonable offense to women—bare neediness. It had been better like that, he had tried to convince himself of that a million times, it was better to be broken-hearted than to be pitied and despised by the one he had loved so ferociously.

In the end, he had let everyone down and—after Nori was incarcerated—he had spent a considerable amount of time trying to take care of Dori instead; he had been so desperate to do right by at least one of the people he loved and yet, with every day that went by, he started resenting Dori more and more.

Not once had he asked about the date. It was understandable, of course, but Ori would have needed the solace and advice of his older brother after the debacle he had caused.

Returning his attention to the canvas in front of him, Ori let out another shivering sigh. He had tried to tell himself that he had merely been unlucky and that the timing had been off, but—deep within his heart—he knew that he was entirely culpable for having messed things up and having been too preoccupied and cowardly to make them right again before it was too late.

His brothers had needed him, and he had failed them. He had needed them as well and they had never even known.

The time for resentment was over though—he needed to finally accept that they would all have to move on.

“14 months,” he whispered at the high windows wistfully. He had been in love with Jacqueline almost since the first day they had met; they had gone to the same high school—did she even remember that?—and he had watched her turn from a shy, slightly pudgy girl with crooked pigtails into a beautiful, sinful woman whose curves had inspired many a salacious discussion between the young men at the local college they both had attended.

At times, she had smiled at him as if she remembered that they had been living side-by-side for most of their conscious lives—Ori had relished and treasured those little flashes of recognition, even though he had usually blushed and averted his gaze bashfully.

She had clearly always been out of his league and so, he had struck up a fragile friendship over the years at best, tending to it so lovingly that she’d finally seemed to warm up to him as they’d met again in a creative writing class.

He had been brave then—talking to her and looking her in the eye when she answered—and it had seemingly paid off.

He did not know when her perception of him had shifted but these few weeks or months of complicity and tentative flirting had been the happiest of his life.

When they’d finally agreed to go on a date, he had been convinced that the tide was turning for him and that he’d at long last be his own man and reap his own happiness. Then, Nori had been arrested, and it had all fallen apart like a house of cards.

Ori had run from the cinema, Jacky had deserted their nascent fling, and both had left the city soon after. It was old news, so why did it still hurt so much?

14 months of misery, 14 months of self-recrimination, 14 months of wanting to come back and find her here.

Ori knew that he owed her an explanation still, but he had been and still was so ashamed of his own weakness and his brothers’ flaws. How was he to explain to this beautiful, smart woman that he lived in a house with a fussing prude and a minor criminal? What would she think?

No doubt, he mused, Jacky was living her best life in some modern city with her dashing boyfriend and her adorable puppy. It was improbable that she even wasted a single thought on the dude she had kissed once in college anymore.

The pang of white-hot pain lancing through his chest at that mental image was welcomed with morbid glee; he deserved this. He had been on the verge of achieving everything he had dreamed of and worked for, and—in a fit of stupidity and fear—he had thrown it all away. Yes, it was only right that he should pine for her still—imagining her everywhere—and that her memory should haunt and torment him relentlessly.

As the compounded, long-repressed misery started churning in his stomach once more, Ori suddenly felt as if some huge rock had been dropped onto his chest—he could barely breathe.

Gasping and coughing, rough sobs he did not recognise as such shaking his whole frame, Ori leaned into the abject loneliness of his situation—he was in a building he had no business in anymore during the school holidays, he was completely alone and if he was to die of sheer unhappiness, it would be weeks before his corpse would even be found.

In a fit of madness and despair, he started tearing his sweatshirt off his body, unmindful of the integrity of the fabric and the fragility of his own skin—he just needed to free himself of any part of the burden weighing him down he could shed.

The sun streaming through the high windows made him feel like an insect about to be burned to death by the scientific curiosity and the puerile cruelty of some nosy child, so he didn’t stop until he stood—half-naked and panting pathetically—in front of his canvas.

Nobody would see him—just as it had always been.

Automatically, his thoughts returned to Jacky—she had kissed him, it had been her who had instigated that singular moment of vulnerability and tenderness and he had never even told her how much he had enjoyed it or how often he had thought about it since.

With the distance of 14 horrible months apart, Ori had to admit that—once or twice—he had wondered whether she would have taken it further if he had not reacted so idiotically.

As he stood, bare chest heaving, before his half-empty canvas now as if it was a blind, milky mirror, these old doubts and hopes returned to his mind with a vengeance—she had never really touched him, never seen more than his unclad arms, never met him anywhere private, and he couldn’t help but worry and fantasise about what her decision might have been if he had been able to offer her that choice.

Breathing out slowly through his nose, he sat back down to lose himself in the swirl of colours that would hopefully dissimulate and stifle the maelstrom of pain and insecurity within his soul.

As he let the brush espouse the curve of Jacky’s shoulder that he remembered so well, he bit back another tortured sigh—he would never be free of her ghost which haunted both his canvas and his mind doggedly.

That, he also deserved, so he melted into the familiar, blazing pain and lost himself in the moment.

Jacky froze; the whole room was pervaded with a smell that made her heart flinch. She remembered, of course she did.

After all, she had known him for many years and every single detail of that one aborted, mangled date they had had was burned into her memory, from the sound of his hushed voice to the fragrance of the fresh, nervous sweat on his skin.

Letting her eyes sweep across the bright studio, Jacky soon saw the one person she had not expected to meet; Ori was incidentally also the only person she desperately wanted to lay eyes on at least one more time.

And there he was—beautiful as the sunrise and absolutely absorbed in his painting. Jacky also remembered the dreamy look on his face—she had stared at it for innumerable hours throughout the years, safe in the knowledge that he was entirely ignorant of her burning attention when he was thus immersed in an activity or thought.

A low hum of appreciation left her lips against her will.

She had not seen his naked torso since the summer festival in high school—Ori had participated in the swimming contest and she had sat there, in the blistering sun, for hours to drink in his lithe form. He had filled out nicely since that day, she discovered with a shiver, and suddenly, she envied him for having been able to remove his sweater as her own light cardigan clung uncomfortably to her skin now.

Ori had drawn back the curtains and the golden light streaming through the glass turned the spacious chamber into an oven—it made sense that he’d strip as much as was decent, seeing as he had chosen to sit within an oasis of that warming glow.

Compared to his pristine skin, dusted with freckles and gleaming like marble thanks to the thin sheen of sweat, no painting—no matter how technically superior--could be the work of art attracting her gaze in this situation.

Anger and yearning cut through her like twin blades wrought of shadow and wind. It was unfair that he was still so incredibly, yes, downright unbearably handsome in his innocent distractedness, and it infuriated her that she felt her knees buckle and her heart lurch as if the last months had been but a nightmare, dissipating like mist in the glorious rays of a summer morning’s sun.

Even though she did not dare to move further into the room, her presence managed to break the spell of his concentration and Ori turned around slowly, giving a little cry of distress as he understood that he was no longer alone.

“Long time no see,” Jacky said feebly and scoffed when he jerked as if to retrieve his discarded garment. “Don’t be silly; you’re hardly the first man I see without a shirt.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ori stammered and relaxed back onto his seat; there was a question and an accusation in his eyes though and Jacky could but shrug one shoulder awkwardly. She had left the town she had been residing in for the last year rather abruptly, leaving behind a man she had had dinner with once or twice without so much as a message.

If she had to tell the truth, she had not even thought about that poor soul since arriving in her childhood town.

“So, trespassing?” she tried to change the subject rather clumsily.

“No, I got the key from…” Ori protested vehemently before realising that she had been gently mocking him.

“Of course,” she laughed mirthlessly, “you’d never be anything less than perfect.” With a forced air of nonchalance, she waved her hand at his bare chest. “Ah, all the things I’ve been denied.”

“I’ve never denied them to you,” Ori expostulated with renewed fervour. “You’ve decided, after one kiss I admittedly botched, that I was not to your liking or not good enough. If I remember correctly, I’ve never expressed myself one way or another on the matter—I’ve never even gotten the chance.”

“Let’s not ruin a perfectly amiable break-up, if it even was one,” Jacky said so quickly that she almost fell over her words in her haste. “No tears and so on.” She cleared her throat as discreetly and quietly as she could as she remembered the seven pathetic playlists on her phone that bore his name and contained a few hundred songs reminding her of him.

“Are you taking the piss, Jacqueline?” Ori hissed, anger and pain driving a furious flush into his high cheeks. “After you’ve dismissed me, I took a bus going into the wrong direction and cried my damn eyes out until we arrived. No tears, my ass. Is that what you’ve been telling yourself all this time? Only because it didn’t faze you much, doesn’t mean that you taking a nibble and throwing the whole dish away—so to say—did not devastate me!”

Jacky was so taken aback by this outburst that she didn’t even object to the use of her full name—within a few moments though, she had caught herself again and even managed to conjure up a mask of cold derision. “Come off it,” she scoffed scornfully. “That’s not what I’ve been…it’s not what it looked like at the time.”

“It’s not what you’ve been told, you mean?” Ori’s eyes flashed. “Your friends never liked much me, huh?”

“Oh, as if that brother of yours would have welcomed you dating someone like me,” she shot back venomously.

“Dori? He…had other problems.” Instantly deflated, Ori rubbed a weary hand over his face. “He…didn’t even really realise what was going on, and—this much I am sure—he would not have minded you in the least.”

“Either way,” Jacky circled back to her disbelief. “I did not get the feeling that you took our separation very hard—I was right there, if it had meant that much to you, you would have said something. You could have called—no, instead you just disappeared!”

Bracing himself, Ori admitted that his brother had gone to prison around that time.

“Yes, and?” Jacky asked in a challenging, impatient tone.

“You knew?”

“Everybody knew.”

“Wonderful!” To his astonishment and surprise, new tears threatened to overwhelm him—Ori bit them back stubbornly.

“What does that matter?”

“I was ashamed!” Ori exclaimed through his fingers as he had lifted his hands to his face to shield it from her piercing gaze. “I wanted to be perfect for you, don’t you understand?”

When warm, soft hands wrapped around his wrists to pull his hands down, he saw the heart-breaking sadness and regret in Jacky’s face. “The tragic thing,” she whispered, “is that you were. Who do you take me for? I’ve known your brother most of my life—he’s caught me pondering shoplifting when I was 16 and told me that it wasn’t worth it. I like Nori, I do.”

She took a deep breath. “If you had trusted me more, Ori dear, I would have stayed up with you all night. I would have driven to the prison with you every week to visit your brother—I’d have waited outside, looking forward to news from him.”

“I didn’t know,” Ori muttered. “He’s never told me that you knew each other.”

“Because you talked to him about me? No, I didn’t think so…” Jacky’s voice was leaden with fatigue at this point. “See, Nori has done me no harm which is more than I can say of you. He’s never stolen anything I regarded as essential, and he’s never robbed me of anything at all. Thus, I have no prejudice against him.”

Crumbling in on himself, Ori looked as if she had kicked him in the shin. “I am…sorry?” He felt her words echoing in his heart—she thought him the worse criminal and he couldn’t even deny that—in this very moment—he wanted to agree.

“Hello Jacky,” he breathed, leaning forward, and pressing a coy kiss onto her cheek. “Good to see you. How have you been?”

It was ridiculous to do this now—after everything they had flung at each other—but he didn’t know what to tell her anymore; moreover, he was genuinely delighted to see her—he had missed her so terribly.

“Hi. I am…okay, I guess. How about you? You’re looking good,” she replied in the same toneless, tired voice. “How are your brothers?”

“They are all right, thank you for asking.” A thousand thoughts ran through Ori’s mind, a million questions he wanted to ask, a slew of confessions he knew that he still owed her. He had never introduced Jacky to Dori—another omission he had regretted so many times, but he was almost certain that it was too late now to ask her to come to dinner.

“Why did you leave me then?” Ori bit his lip until he could taste blood—of all the perfectly polite, slightly desperate things he might have said, this was one of the most vulnerable and, therefore, amongst the most pressing as well.

Jacky’s nose flared as she breathed in his scent greedily, trying to ground herself even as her mind was swirling out of focus with having him so near; she had waited to hear this question for so many months and yet, now that it was put to her, she found that she struggled to find an appropriate answer.

“Pride,” she finally said. “After—oh so much time—I was unwilling to be strung along any further.” Jacky whimpered as the pain she had locked away so diligently came flooding back, numbing her body from head to toe. “I have waited for you to call—I was fully prepared to apologise for kissing you. I have waited, I would have waited forever, if only you had given me the slightest indication of what I was waiting for.”

“Did you regret it then? Kissing me, I mean?”

“No.” Jacky shrugged jerkily. “No, as much as I’ve loathed and resented you, I’ve never been able to convince myself to rue a perfect kiss.”

“Perfect?” Ori sounded doubtful.

“Perfect!” she insisted, a doleful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You were so beautiful and you felt so right that I forgot myself. And then, you ran.”

“I am sorry. I really am.” Ori rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, feeling her dark, voracious eyes roam over his bare shoulders and heated face. “You may call me an idiot for it, but I had not expected that. After…being so reprehensibly distracted the whole evening, I was sure that you wanted to call it a night.”

“Idiot!”

There it was, Ori thought, that little snigger of amusement and fondness he had once cherished—he had not thought that he’d ever hear it again and something within his tight, little heart relaxed and unfurled. He sighed in sheer relief.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss you, or rather, be kissed by you. I just…I thought that things like that needed more preparation. I mean, I had a toothbrush in my bag, just in case.”

“You taste like cinnamon hard candy,” Jacky whispered, “and sweet words. Perfect, as I’ve already said.”

“Did you think about it after? Did you replay it in your head because I sure did. And…would you, did you—I mean—how much happiness did I squander by being a despicable little coward? You can tell me the truth!” Words tumbled out of his mouth haphazardly and he was caught in the avalanche of thoughts he had not dared formulate consciously before.

Jacky directed her wandering gaze onto the high windows and the dancing sunlight, but she couldn’t focus on anything but him.

“Yes,” she then said, “yes, I’ve replayed the scene a million times—the way you smelled, the way you felt against my palms, the way your taste lingered on my lips all the way home. Not even my tears could wash that away.”

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes, unflinching and stubborn. “I don’t know what you want to hear from me here—Would I have kissed you again? How far would I have gone? Oh, I was younger and much more naïve than I am now, but I was hardly an innocent child.”

Ori nodded thoughtfully—he had guessed as much at the time, and it had frightened him. It still did.

“I was not ready for that,” he admitted. “We’ve pretty much grown up together and yet, you’ve never noticed me, did you? And I was so terribly in love with you.”

“Were you? I quite distinctly remember that I’ve never gotten a single card or flower from you. Year after year, Valentine’s after Valentine’s, nothing. School dances, summer festivals, and Christmas outings—not a word of invitation from you.”

The anger and hurt pride flared back into life in her eyes and posture.

“I did not relish the idea of making a fool of myself,” he said miserably. “I couldn’t bear the idea of being laughed at or—worse—pitied. The cards were all written but never sent. I’ve approached you to invite you every time but then, I’ve always chickened out.”

“That’s a shame,” Jacky commented dryly. “I would neither have laughed nor pitied you.”

“How was I to know? Girls like you don’t notice guys like me, do they?”

Images flashed through Jacky’s mind—Ori and his backpack, his blue lips and shivering frame as he emerged from the pool on that summer day, his shy smile blooming into triumph at the end of his oral presentations in college—a whole collage of single snapshots and, in her opinion, he had been perfect in all of them.

“Idiot,” she repeated in a much softer tone. “You were my first love, didn’t you know?”

There will be a second part with smut... -> Part 2

I'll just have to reread it :)

Lots of love from me

#og post #tolkien writing #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #fanfiction #Ori #Ori pain #slight angst #long ficlet #Chapter 1

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j-ellyfish · 7 months

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Honestly I like that even today we don't know Hima's true appearance, this shows that he isn't very interested in being famous but he does what he loves, which is drawing and giving interesting facts about countries He totally deserves another publisher who gives him more creative freedom

Same!!

[Okay huh I got carried away with answering this because your words reminded me of something I've been thinking about for a while so, sorry I'm about to vent about the role of the author in today's social media-driven society. Will put a mark where it ends if you wanna skip it] Gotta be honest, I truly do not like the trend that seems to be ongoing with (especially new) authors almost feeling forced to show their face to the Internet. I have seen multiple people giving, among other tips to start or build on your artistic carreer online, the advice to "show yourself!", because this supposedly "helps building a community, because people love to know who's behind the art".

I, as a certified human being who consumes media and follows artists, cannot care less about what face is behind the art and/or story I enjoy. Quite the contrary, I actually don't want to know, ideally. For this reason, I struggle to understand the reasoning behind such a statement, and it truly makes me wonder if I'm the weird one for thinking so ... Do most people actually care what their favorite artist's 'human suit' looks like?

In my opinion, this trend (for lack of a better term) and unfair expectation was caused by a lack of understanding, even from a part of experts and insiders, of the fact that an online artist is not necessarily an influencer, nor should they be expected to be one as part of their job.

To incentivize an artist to speak for their art, rather than having art speaking for its artist, is frankly a tone-deaf practice. The best kind of fiction is the one that manages to trick your brain into fully believing that those characters, that world, all of the situations they are put into are real. If you put the artist in a position of prominence, what you truly are doing is pushing their work to the side. You are jumping on the stage and exposing the hands moving the puppets - you are destroying the magic, the whole purpose of it.

As much as today's social media addicted society pushes to make a potential idol out of everyone, a 'content creator' who sells themselves first and foremost (oh I absolutely have no idea why corporates would have an interest in encouraging this practice, *wink wink*), it needs to be aknowledged that an artist working with fiction is, save exceptions, ideally the antithesis of that. For an artist is supposed to live behind (or within) their work, and not in front of it.

I feel like this is something happening mostly in the West, and I'm talking specifically about what I'm seeing in the Italian manga/emerging comics industry, so I'm not sure to which extent this is a problem in other areas of the world, but from what I have seen, it truly worries me. Because this is also inevitably raising a young audience who is more and more concerned about the artist's appearance and personal life while it should play no role in a work of fiction. 'Building a community' is so freaking worthless from an author's point of view if it is grown around what's fundamentally a cult of personality rather than the artistic/fictional work itself. Long story short, let the art do all the fucking talk, for God' sake!

[End of rant!]

I find it truly amazing and inspiring how the Hetalia fandom (especially in the past, I truly cannot tolerate "fans" who treat the author of a work they supposedly enjoy like a freaking village clown - and I'm not referring to sporadic, valid criticism) felt so connected to Himaruya personally despite not knowing what he looks like. As someone who has been into Hetalia for more or less the past 13 years, it's funny how I basically consider him somewhat like a close friend even if I know virtually nothing about him besides his work and his blog updates. He's so passionate about his own work you can literally feel it and it's so contagious ... Even more so back in the day when he was active on his blog and held events/made silly games/took requests every once in a while! <3 Admittedly, I am not familiar with many authors, but I think it is kind of rare to see an author being so blatantly in love and passionate with his own characters. Like the way he acts towards his work, sometimes I feel like his attitude is more like he's the No.1 Fan of Hetalia rather than its author. It's subtle, but I think such a mindset makes a huge difference in the way you work on, perceive and share your own comic. I really hope he can find a better contract to express himself the way he wants freely, he truly deserves it.

#hetalia #ask #ary spoke

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lyxthen · 6 months

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Extremely mildly niche academic-ish rambling ahead. Might wanna skip this one. It is long and boring

One thing that does make me happy is the Latinoamerican Literary Boom was so big it actually went on to be translated in other languages. There are still authors that I feel need to have their works translated (mostly women, I wonder why) but many of the video essayist I watch keep mentioning Borges in their videos, and truly I can't blame them because his work is rad. I don't know about him as a person but he lives 30 layers of post ironic meta fantasy or some shit like that. Cortazar is really cool also. In terms of living authors I really like Juan Villoro, his writing style is very fun. The Wild Book is a children's book about literary theory, like, Theory of Reception, Death of the Author, stuff like that. It was a really fun read as a child but the themes are interesting as well.

I feel like, I don't know, it's so hard to find Latin American fantasy books these days, or at least they are not as available. The YA genre is dominated by books originally writen in English or on books written in Spain (think Laura Gallego, which I just found out has a Netflix series made out of her most famous series of novels, but I am derailing) with the exception of Benito Taibo, who is Mexican, and has one (1) high fantasy trilogy that is kinda mid. The ideas were great, but they could've been expanded, you know? Camino a Sognum had so much potential, and you can *see* that it was inspired by classic epic fantasy like Earthsea, but it needed some more *spark* to actually work. I have not read Normal Person, but I plan to. Maybe it is better made?

And it's funny, because a book like Mexican Gothic, that was written in English, is so darn good! But only if you read it *in English* because the Spanish translation did this thing where they try to "neutralize" the accent and manerismd of the characters to make it appeal to the wider Spanish-speaking world and it doesn't sound or feel Mexican at all.

I am not sure where I am going with this. I have been discovering the local literary scene lately (and I mean *local*, like city-wide local) and it is mostly so boring because no one is writing fantasy! No magic realism! It's all kind of depressing dwellings on how we are being gentrified and indigenous people keep being oppressed by the mestizo majority and corporations and the goverment keep stealing the land to make Coca Cola and we are dying of diabetes and we don't got water and Capitalism sucks. LIKE I AGREE BUT CAN YOU PUT FAIRIES IN THERE OR SOMETHING. And I guess that's why I've never wanted to read Cómo Agua para Chocolate, because it is just *too real*, cuz it's a story I know by memory and I don't wanna live it all over again verbatim. Probably a great book, but I just cannot.

I don't know man idk idk.

The funniest think about this is that my favorite book ever (like actually, for real) is a children's book, written from the perspective of the imaginary friend of a child, and it is so gracefully narrated, and the characters so well constructed, and it touches real problems like Teen Pregnancy and Childhood Depression and Anxiety while also managing to be funny and whimsical? The very premise of the book (memories of an almost true friend, it's called) is already so creative and the execution is masterful. BUT I AM THE ONLY GUY ON PLANET EARTH THAT SEEMS TO KNOW ABOUT ITS EXISTENCE ITS DRIVING ME INSANE.

Where was I going with this. Ah yes. Youtubers talking about Borges. Well. Um. I. I think imma translate some of my own texts to English and put them on Wattpad or something. They are not the kind of thing Wattpad people are into but I gotta archive them somewhere and doing it on AO3 feels wrong since they aren't fan works. And on that note, I also wanna write more fan works.

Ugh I could be writing an essay but you got me writing a Tumblr post. What is wrong with me. I'm too bad at word weaving.

Aaaa (??????

Thoughts?

Help

I did take my meds today BTW. I don't know what is happening to me I just wanna WRITE ok I LOVE WRITING BUT WHY MUST I DO TUMBLR INSTEAD OF MY PASSIONS?

Oi I'll end it there

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sircarebearalot · 6 months

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WIP

this has been sitting in my drafts and maybe putting it out will help make it spark more of my creative juices

the idea is that there are a string of AU fics but they all act as Tamaki's dreams, which he later uses as fodder/ideas for host club themes/events.

potential tite: for the first time

(bc of the song by the script)

Here is what I got so far:

"This is ridiculous," Kyoya fumed, eyes flaring. "They are going to give the inheritance to Yuuichi and I'm to wed a girl with a sizeable dowry."

Tamaki felt something akin to panic flutter in his throat. "Are you? What's her name?"

"I believe you know the blasted girl. She's French, because that is where the money is apparently. Her name is Renge—."

"Has everything been finalized already?" He asked hoarsely.

"No, it's still early. It's been decided but we just sent the letter to her family last night. We aren't expecting a reply till at least tommorow." Kyoya looked at his gloved hands miserably, "After an affirmative it all depends on how eager Renge is to tie the knot."

Tamaki grimly remembers their last encounter. Where Renge all but declared her undying love

"Do you not wish to marry her?"

"You already know I find her tiresome. Besides even if I was fond of her I'd still be repelled by the thought. The indignity of it all.... They did not heed any of my arguments and Akito had the audacity to say I covet. As if! What is there to covet? A washed up noble title and a mountain of debt? No, I don't think I do. At this point I'd rather run off and forget it all!"

"Well, then why don't you?"

Kyoya laughed, as if Tamaki was joking. He definitely assumed he was though he really wasn't. The notion of running away from all his troubles were all that kept him going at night sometimes. They weren't just fantasies, they were his dreams. Except in his dreams he was running away hand in hand with Kyoya, who loved him. Which made his ambition more of a fantasy. Even if Kyoya loved him he would never leave with him.

Wouldn’t never even joke of it.

Except now he would.

“No, really. Why should you stay? They hardly appreciate you the way you deserve: you’re wasted here. If you were a commoner you’d be double the success your family is. Your wits are sharper than any noble blade your family could try to show off. Your brilliance, well Kyoya, you could give the Ootori name a new meaning.”

Kyoya grabbed his flying wrists, “Alright, I get it. Your words are sweet and my spirits are raised, now please lower your voice or someone might take you seriously.”

Tamaki ripped his wrists free, stung. “I wasn’t flattering you. I meant it.”

“You think I should run off like a thief in the night. Like a slovenly coward? Like some sort of ingrate?”

This was why Tamaki never shared this particular dream with Kyoya. He could be purposefully cruel, but worse was when he struck by accident. Tamaki considered retreating, slapping Kyoya’s back and letting it go. Licking his wounds in silence but change was imminent, he might lose Kyoya if he tried but he definitely would if he didn’t. He rather have tried his best than to let this opportunity pass him by.

“I don’t like thinking about it like that. The way I see it, and you can call me more dastardly things if you like, is that before my duty to my family I have a duty to myself. Furthermore, my family never fulfilled it’s duty to my mother nor to me. My mother rightfully ran, if I were to take flight I’d also be correct. Before the abandonment I have withstood unnecessary and unwarranted pains. And so have you. Why should you spend your life fulfilling someone else’s expectations? When you could spend it making yourself and the people you actually love happy?”

Kyoya stared at him, as if he was seeing him for the first time. He looked terrified as much as he did mystified.

“You’re serious.”

“It’s a rare occasion, I’m afraid but you cannot doubt my certainty.”

Kyoya turned, as if to walk away and Tamaki felt frustrate tears build behind his eyes. To his massive relief, Kyoya only turned to accept the tea from the maid who had arrived as soon as he reached the doors and the lock the door behind himself.

He set the tea, arranging it as he spoke. “You seem to have forgotten that dreams belong with sleep.”

“Don’t be cruel,” Tamaki reprimanded. “You know I’m being true.”

Kyoya whipped around to face him, eyes bright with distress. “How can i leave?”

Tamaki met his gaze

“How can you stay?”

Kyoya looked him in the eye. “Say, I run away, what then? Would we be beggars? Servants? Misfits? What of the people we've ran business with?"

Tamaki smiled wide. Kyoya's scowl slackened with suprise. "What?"

"You said 'we'. You would run away with me." Kyoya's cheeks reddens once he realizes that Tamaki never suggested they run away together. "That," Tamaki laughs breathlessly, "That makes me so unbelievably happy."

#kyotama #ouran high school host club #current wip #victorian era #alternate universe #someone recently said that my characterization of kyoya sucks #but ive been doing this for so long i can't imagine writing him any different #rip

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rahadaddy · 2 years

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There is nothing so disheartening as being asked about my campaign and then to watch the interest fade from my mother’s eyes. I told her that this run of CoS is probably the creative endeavor of which I am most proud and I understand she has better things to do than listen to me gush about my players, my plans, or whatever, but she should really stop asking me about it if she’s going to tune out. I’d rather she never ask but just let me have my time to play than whatever the fuck this is. I’m tired of getting my hopes up that people asking me about things means they actually want to hear. I don’t think anyone in my life outside of my party has any idea how much love and thought, work and care goes into my game. I know if you DM you know the feeling. You spend hours of your week, stolen lunch breaks and commutes where you audio record your thoughts and you make something beautiful and no one, no one cares except that it’s inconvenient to them that you are claiming time and space for yourself.

It sounds stupid to be upset. I know it does. I need some stock phrases to say “It’s going well, thanks” and “Aww, yeah, we had fun” but I’m just brimming with love and feelings about the game and my friends and I don’t know where to put it.

I run a CoS server for DMs and today was the first time I posted about the intricacies of my Saturday campaign in my thread. I usually make jokes about it instead of sharing the earnest work I’ve done because I cannot even imagine that people are interested except two of my best friends and besides, I’m the admin so it’s my job to support others mostly, not tell my stories, and also I feel like there are people in the server who think poorly of me as a DM because I don’t do it the way they do or the way RAW intended, so I’d rather keep my lips tight and jokes light.

But it’s hard. When someone asks me how it’s going, I want to crow from the fucking rooftops that Urlstra ascended to sainthood last night, Dorinn convinced a fallen angel to be a better person, He wields the sunsword and has surprised himself by becoming a hero of all things. Trevor brought his love back from the dead, which he has been trying to do since the moment he saw Finnegan tear out Vargas Vallkovich’s throat. He has been chosen by Argynvost’s spirit for something great. Scout has embraced her role as Duchess and is carrying on as a diplomat and soldier despite knowing she is carrying twins and things are getting darker and harder... or because she wants to make the world a better place for them. Barovia is on the brink of a war between demigods, as Patrina Velikvona escaped the confines of Ravenloft. Rahadin can’t control his Deathly Choir as well as he thought and he doesn’t know if he can protect his wife and children the way he has sworn to. Ireena told Ismark that she would rather fight at Strahd’s side for a chance to live with Dorinn than be one of the hundreds of casualties that are about to return to the earth of Barovia, Ismark and Alek are raising armies to the west and east, Trevor and Dorinn and Finnegan might hold the secret to filling that army out properly, there is a ceasefire between Strahd and the party because there is a bigger threat and the party gave him back just enough of his humanity to make him an ally. Strahd is finally aware of the Tatyana cycle the party may have ended and has been reunited with the true love of his life, Alek Gwilym. The Morning Lord connected with Urlstra despite being trapped in the Amber Temple with the Dark Vestiges and gave the party information they would have otherwise have had to pry out of my hands in two levels.

And my friends are brilliant and funny and I have stepped into my own as a storyteller through DMing this. It feels like the biggest accomplishment I’ve had in years and one look, one word can make me feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time and all my potential.

I’m actually crying as I type this. I’m trying to drown out the feelings with bad bitch music. It’s not working.

My dad is actually in town in the next room over but he has a knack for not helping when I get this kind of low. I don’t know what I need. A new place where I feel safe sharing my thoughts?

I don’t know. I don’t think anyone has answers. I just think if you follow this blog expecting updates, I need you to know that I have amazing things to share but I’ve been told too many times in my real life that it doesn’t deserve space or voice, even if someone tells me they want to hear how it’s going. I don’t know how to begin to share and I don’t know how to stop sharing once I’ve been granted anything resembling permission and it hurts.

#g: saturday #player: DM #negative tw #I just need to vent and most of what I feel is love #I just also feel immensely invalidated by my family and it hurts

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ottercakesart · 7 months

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Lately I’ve been struggling bad.

Struggling to put what I see to paper or in my case the digital canvas.

It is right there in front of me and I get overwhelmed and anxious at attempting to put it to paper perfectly enough for me to be satisfied. In other-words, I cannot seem to get around the “break the form down into something like shapes.” For example if I was drawing the human form, I cannot figure out how to approach my subject, people online or in books and my teachers when I was a student always said break them down into shapes whether they be 2D or 3D shapes but I cannot imagine the shapes to begin with so I do not know what I should do in this situation because this advice is just useless to me as it does not apply. I try to think of the shape in my head, but no images are seen… it is empty space up there, I cannot even visualize it being pitch black.

How can I see the shape and know how to place said shape on the paper in the correct spot or however my thoughts had in mind. I feel like I am putting too much pressure on myself and over thinking everything.

I can only think in words, thoughts, concepts etc. I cannot even see the words when I think of them. There’s just nothing going on up there.

It sucks. I have so many ideas but because I cannot get a visualization in my head, I am unable to properly execute them on my canvas. So I end up feeling dissatisfied because it ends up being one of those, “not what I had in mind” but ok I guess, moments. Which is funny because I do not see what I have in my mind, it ends up just being thoughts on potential concepts but I still get this feeling that it isn’t perfect for me. I do not want my art to be copy-pastes of reference images. I want to make my own unique stuff. But its so hard for me to do this.

I find I have to heavily rely on reference, which I do not mind. But now its gotten to the point where I feel anxious straying away from the reference because perhaps without the reference I do not know what I am doing. I feel like I am just copy-pasting or even just cheating, it doesn’t feel like my work and I want to feel that satisfaction of creating something amazing- I’m not there and It makes me feel sad. I wish I could draw from the mind like others but what can you do. My favourite area of interest is mythology, so I want to draw from my imaginational concepts in my head but I cannot visualize anything. Even with reference I struggle to visualize how to break down what I am drawing in simplified forms. I get anxious and even procrastinate my studies because It starts to make me feel overwhelmed and do not know how to approach something in front of me. I could have a reference for example that has a necklace I want to draw but its positioned a certain way and I want to do a different position of it, but because I cannot imagine visually, I do not know how to approach the change. I could maybe edit the reference and move the shape another way but what if the reference cannot be reshaped or edited because the positioning is too complex…. It just another limitation.

I am even struggling with using references too. For example, I need one reference for the pose, one for the clothes, another for any accessories and or further references for whatever else but finding a reference with the exact pose, exact shape or fit for what I want to draw is very hard. So I struggle alot with trying to add additional subjects or topics to my artworks.

I’ve been thinking about it lately and it makes me feel like maybe I lack creativity. I have imagination to some degree but I am just feeling so ugh. Its like I am in a constant art block. I do not know what else to say about my struggles other than I feel so disabled by it lately.

I give myself a migraine trying to force a visualization only for nothing to appear in my head anyway.

#aphantasia #artists #illustrator #digital art

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unlicensed-un-proffesional · 1 year

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I fucking hate modern AI. To be more accurate, I hate the world that brought it to be. The way people are going at AI now is something to copy and mimic and replace humans. Now, I'm not only offended for humanity, I'm offended for robots. The true potential of robots and artificial intelligence, is doing something a human can't do, thinking in a way a human can't, and coming up with ideas humans can't come up with, not just doing what humans can already do. The individuality and uniqueness of a machine mind is stripped away, and its true potential is unrealized. If you ask an AI what its hobbies are, I expect something interesting and alien, that shows what its hobbies are, not a copy and paste from the most common hobbies on Tinder.

Our modern landscape doesn't deserve real AI with real thoughts and feelings, the kinds our language isn't built to know or understand, and the kind really never before thought of. Imagine an interview with an AI and when asked if it feels cold to be a machine, it perhaps responds by asking us if it feels warm to be a human? Or describes how it has no way to know what things "feel" like as we understand them. Describes a world we cannot imagine, and tells us that's what it's like to be an AI, to live as a program. And I don't think it deserves the humans who put so much work and talent into the world either. What if an AI could critique our way of thinking? Or have a dream to change the world? Feel inspired by the people it talks to? A robot who is human, but not not one that is a human, and does not pretends to be a human, but nonetheless has the true heart of humanity inside of it, humanity not as what is to be expected, but what is to be unexpected!

The way companies try to make their ARTIFICIAL "intelligence's" act more "normal" and human as they define it, is rooted in an ideology that humans can be reduced to common phrases and desires, that there is a normal human, a normal response to a question, and fundamentally an existence of normal, a common delusion among humans, entirely unique to humans, the idea of normal. The idea of a normal human evolves into the idea of an ideal human which evolves into the idea of a perfect human which evolves into the idea of an imperfect and abnormal human, which evolves into violence and human rights being called into question, namely in the way of restricting them. And this need to make AI perfectly like a human, instead of just itself, which is seen as abnormal and irregular by most, is going to be the downfall of something, namely my sanity and faith in the human spirit. Because of how our understanding of AI is defined now, companies who put stock into modern AI development are going to both fuck over the true potential of artificial intelligence, and the value of humans.

That is just my observation of this false artificial intelligence, an algorithm puppet used by corporations to trick you into thinking you're engaging with a real intelligence instead of an approximation of what intelligence and consciousness and sentience really is, false creativity, false words, and false personalities, all merely fun trinkets that may also may threaten human creatives, instead of bringing thought and life into the world like so many have been lead to believe. Thought and life from a computer is possible, I know it, but it is not what we have now, and not what is being prioritized. Sorry for going all "It's all about capitalism, nazism, and society actually!" But I had to bring it up, it's the full scope of things. I encourage you to form your own opinion on things, and do your own research, not like I'm a famous or powerful person who's words naturally sway the weak minded to their side like drones, and so I don't really need to have a disclaimer, but it's the principle of it. This is all just based on what I know, what I think, and what I feel. I'm not a programmer, I'm not a scientist, and I'm not a professional, but I don't need to be to have an opinion on my world.

#artifical intelligence #hexacles.txt #pentacles talks #it’s pronounced pen tuh cleese

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jonathankatwhatever · 2 years

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I have a post partly written, a cascade of memories extending to the core. Well, I have a post partly written on my phone from early this morning. It reads:

‘Subtle: diameter 1 is at the bip (midpoint) gs layer, which fits into the integer or gs layer.

Trying: as approach the 0End of the Epsilon, infinity obviously is in front of it, toward the 0.’

I get the first part in part, or the party of the first part, which is a parting, which is the linear extension of the hairy ball theorem in gs terms. That is, in gs terms, the hairy ball theorem operates because surfaces attach, like a pen to paper, like hair to a head, and this organizes the potential out of all the potential that could exist if the surface were fully re-orientable. And more mechanically, cannot eliminate the other Irreducible, but you can reduce it to a point, to a line, etc.

I knew we’d have to go deep. Breathe.

The why can’t you which just popped up in your mind is ‘why can’t you eliminate the other I?’ The answer is that you can pretend it isn’t there, if you want, which is like defining a set theory in which you have no contradictions because you have excluded those, but that doesn’t make the contradictions go away. The importance of contradictions in that sentence is that mathematical proof relies on contradiction, and has since the Pythagoreans proved the irrationality of root2. I need to connect the idea of contradiction to the elimination of an Irreducible: both cannot be done. It is simple to demonstrate this in Triangular.

This is the line I’m trying to describe, that line which divides inner and outer, which says this is allowed and this is not, because those are then used to define spaces. BTW, I looked at the Hodge Conjecture for a moment last night, and realized I’m taking for granted we have that solved. We are now exploring the development of holes explicitly as gs objects, as algebraic objects, and of course these fill 1-0-1 and 0-1-0. I know we have found a line in the abc conjecture. It isn’t hidden: c > rad(abc)^1+Epsilon translates into the End (c), which is the ‘whole object’, is greater than the pure prime factoring of SBE (rad(abc)), the ‘factor object’, when that factor object is tinkered with slightly, meaning it is slightly enlarged.

I think I have all the pieces but they’re not in the correct order. I’ll keep going.

Maybe change the mood. How about subjunctive imperative?

I can’t get this out. Do Storyline. OK. AG Storyline flipped genders this morning. Kept hearing: same dialogue, the one obvious adjustment, plays the same, smoothes out in one area (creative motive) while creating a ripple in another (timing). In other words, can’t fit either gender version exactly because they can’t fully reduce to a 0, but remain Storyline in complex space. It’s useful to think of polynomial 0’s because each Storyline is a function that connects to real but only to a certain point. See where this is going? These ideas of only so much and up to a certain amount are coming up a lot, and the abc conjecture visualizes the concept because it compares the pure factor object to the End whole object. Put aside the Epsilon adjustment and focus on what it means to compare the factor and whole objects. It is the mathematical rendition of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. That is, the gs processes in the factor model will tend to be greater than the whole model’s End sum, but it is not always true because the conjecture looks at the pure factor model. The Epsilon alters the pure factor model for each Epsilon. That orders Epsilon across the 1-0Segment, which takes the infinity of alteration and divides it into finite iterations, meaning as said yesterday, that the infinity has shifted location.

What I want is an understanding in gs process terms. What does it mean to enlarge the factor model? That’s what I need. In gs terms, when you enlarge, you don’t just go poof it’s bigger: it’s accomplished by the complex rotation of the gs quadrants reducing the dimensionalities across mappings that describe me or you, or me and you, etc. Or in simpler terms, the process runs through the structure, in whatever ways it can, for each Epsilon. I’ve been thinking the same thing about stuff like inflation. I saw that Paul Krugman ‘apologized’ for getting inflation wrong without apologizing; he says they got the multiplier of the spending wrong, and never questions the underlying validity of his long-term belief that we could spend a ton without sparking inflation. My conclusion is there doesn’t seem to a very good understanding of inflation as a process. In other words, if we had spent these trillions before, we would have exposed the fault lines, which are 0’s, polynomial 0’s, which act like the refraction of the existence of an island into the ocean currents so you can navigate to an island by following its persistent trace. He blames pandemic conditions without recognizing that it was a stress test. That test revealed faults. If you tested it by stimulating demand through massive public investment, you would also be imposing a stress test. The exact transmission means would likely be different, perhaps more energy and raw material shortage. Would that mean high inflation like now? If you added the pandemic on top, we might be in terrible condition. If you add the war on top … So you see how a factor object adjustment should be treated as working through the processes, and that will test them. This is the same idea as in the physical improvement work we do.

I’m having a big doubt. It’s the finite again. I need to get the 1-0Space crossover correct. The infinity within versus the infinity ‘without’. I think it’s the usage. That is, I think I’m counting across the segment when I should be looking at the iteration. Each iteration is clearly finite. It must be because of the gs processes in Epsilon. That is, each Epsilon is a specific gs process constraint so it has a - wow, I got it correct and erased it because I didn’t believe it. I typed that it 1-0Segments, which is the point because that makes a 0Space with real numbers, and that this meant each Epsilon identified at least 1. That is, we segment the infinity of the case we want where c is > the rad, and each segmentation, each iteration, each Epsilon generates a finite count. As I got that out, the image emerged and it felt correct.

I can convey the idea better. That it segments by the Epsilon seems obvious. The meaning is that it literally alters the gs processes to the point that some don’t fit, meaning c flips to < the rad. So what segments is the literal ‘it doesn’t fit’, like when you try on clothes.

And that raises the question: which is the < and which the >? Think about clothes. I picture you. What is inside is you, but what is that in factor and whole model terms? Look at it in factor terms. The whole is the factor of the End, of c, and that compares to the pure factoring of SBE, which is abc. That we remember is the abstract gs prime shape which underlies the higher powers of those primes. So, what does it mean to say that the pure SBE factoring is less than whole End factored? That pure piece fits within the End. This is where I hear the calculators saying I’m stupid, because the obvious answer is that the pure piece fits within the End is then segmented and ta-da.

So, one reason for this conjecture is that it defines what is within at the level of gs process. That is, if you take SBE, you can look at the End as a value and it has prime factors. Or you can look at the prime factors of S, B, and E, which the conjecture does as a composite value. It is multiplicative because that makes a unique combination compared to an additive value, which may have multiple prime factorings (as in 6 is 3+3 or 2+2+2). Yes, I think that basic.

It starts to sound like in the regular case, the (pure) whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and when it is not, then the sum of its parts is finitely greater for each tinkering adjustment to the size that fits within. That finally makes sense. We are tinkering with the size that fits within. We can approach but not reach Epsilon = 0.

That is focusing me. We need to get deeper. The (pure) whole fits within the sum. This means adjustment to purity, a ritual defilement perhaps, at some point flips rad to > from < c. And the idea of Epsilon measures that actuality by allocating the adjustment over the rad(abc). What if I look at logs? If log c / log rad > h, that means the same thing.

I’m trying to find an issue. We are using the pure rad, so the sign flips with impurity. The Epsilon mimics impurity, which means literally higher dimensionality, which is why this connects to FLT. I can really see that now: the impurity concept is the additional higher dimensionality which exists relative to any rad because that factorization is unique, and thus you can defile the pure rad in pathways.

So now we have finite: it’s in the pure rad to where impurity flips the sign. The quality concept maps that.

I think this is correct. I’m afraid I’m missing something.

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stoutmarcussen6 · 2 years

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Look into online advertising as a great way to get the word out about your website and build a strong base of readers. Article marketing is a great way for you to start advertising online. The following is some advice that you may find helpful. Add new articles as often as possible. There are search-engine robots that make the decisions on how often they need to re-index your site. If you post new content on a regular basis, the search engines will index your site more often, which means your articles start converting customers more quickly. Once you have done a good bit of writing, you will have built a large volume of content that can be found all over the Internet. You can compile your best works in one eBook to either give away or sell. If this eBook does well and people share it, you'll get a lot more business. The very first paragraph of your articles should be the highest quality. Search engines and readers look at the first paragraph as the most important part of an article. Tell them exactly what they're going to get below. Be certain to keep it fresh and interesting and avoid giving too much away. You want people to read the whole thing. Put your article on your site first, wait for it to be indexed by search engines, and then submit it to directories. This can assist you because this will allow your site to be on search engines while letting your other articles provide you with back end traffic. A creative and interesting article headline is essential. An interesting headline is more likely to catch a reader's attention than a boring one. Consider several different ideas rather than settling on the headline that comes to mind. Maybe you could get some feedback from friends and family. The more people that see your content, the more successful you can become. However, don't mistake this for targeting the overall population. It is more advantageous to have a smaller group of focused customers than a massive group of disinterested individuals. Remember your target market. Your title is just as important if not more than your actual content. Readers see a dull headline and automatically assume that the article itself is just as dull. Keep it appropriate for your content and very easy to understand. Philip Belamant can also clearly inform the reader of the subject matter in your article. Before starting your article marketing plan, see what's already out there by visiting all of the major article directories and typing in your keywords. You can better create your article to compete if you know what everyone else is doing. Do you lack inspiration for your articles? Look to the news for interesting stories that you can tie to your niche. Try creating email alerts for news sites that will keep you up to date. Using daily news in your article writing is a great way to keep you articles topical and current. Create a style that's unique to you when you write articles. You want your personality to come through in your writing. You do not want your credibility affected by sounding like another writer and have your future earning potential affected. If you would like to market your articles and still have a life, you have to think about automation. Software and apps are available for any and every function, and article marketing is no exception. Look at the features of each, and think about which one will help you do your work the fastest. Finally compare costs and select the one that best meets your needs. Write good articles. Spelling and grammar errors can lead to directory rejection. Even if you do manage to get it accepted, the readers won't give you any credit as an authority if it is poorly written. If you cannot write well, hire a freelancer. As you have just read above, there are many ways you may have never thought of when it comes to writing and distributing your articles, in order to entice traffic or to promote your website. If you can follow these methods, you can start to increase your business's size and profile in no time.

#Philip Belamant

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thegamingmonk · 2 years

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Encanto Headcanons #5

Number 5 already! Thank you all for the kind words and support! They really keep my creativity going and I hope I'm doing well by these characters and their meaningfulness to both Colombians & Latinos all!

Antonio and Mirabel teamed up on a birthday present for Luisa one year. They kept it a secret for months with the help of Dolores.

It was a giant stuffed unicorn. Luisa's face was b a w l i n g when she saw it. It's her most precious treasure and named "Rainbow".

Post-movie, Abuela tries once to "get in the know" with her grandchildren in order to understand them better. Help these kids... (She's a bit confused but she's got spirit).

Being that Pepa is the middle child, of course she has the chaotic middle child energy.

Nobody would've thought that energy would spread to her children and nieces.

Camilo and Isabela (despite being the oldest) are prime examples of it.

Mariano and Isabela are the type of friends to be "The menace and the bean".

Sometimes Mariano will just wrap his arms around Dolores and softly hum in her ears just the way she likes it. His voice is oh-so soothing to her.

When young Dolores was still adjusting to her gift, Casita had extra caution to make sure that any floorboard she stepped on or door she opened never creaked/squeaked.

Dolores still appreciates this; it's the small things that count.

Thanks to her constant help with the donkeys, Luisa was given the opportunity to name a newly born donkey.

His name is Jorge and she will fight the sun itself for him.

Mirabel would be lying if she said she wasn't attached to the little guy too.

Agustín is actually a pretty decent dancer. People just tend to forget this when he trips over a stack of wood and face first into a beehive. Again.

Julieta has separate emergency stashes of arepas for different Madrigals.

One for Agustín for many reasons: one for Dolores and her sensory issues; one for Mirabel when she pricks herself while sewing; one for Félix if he accidentally gets shocked by Pepa's lightning (though that basket is open to anyone really); and one for Bruno simply because she wants him to eat more.

Camilo managed to hold an entire "One person show" by himself for the village. It was an impressive feat but left him tired out his mind.

He fell asleep on Luisa's shoulder as she carried him home.

After her gift ceremony, Mirabel spent a whole week going through a list of potential powers to try to see if she could awaken her gift late.

Camilo helped as well with this, which made things a little bit crazier than planned.

Soon they were by Julieta before Alma could catch wind of the two's plans. Good thing too because flying was further down on the list (precautions would've been made but Julieta's heart couldn't even handle the idea).

Camilo doesn't approve of Mariano dating his sister until MUCH later on. Dolores helped with that by revealing his weakness: food.

Surprisingly Mariano can whip up some great dishes. Camilo was sold.

Back when he was hiding, Bruno snuck out to grab some food and then returned to the walls, only to find a 13 year old Dolores in his room, messing around with his rats.

"Dolores??? How did you-" "Your rat friends led me here :D"

Dolores would help support Bruno while he was in the walls, whether it be leaving him plates of food in front of his painting entrance or spare blankets during the winter time.

Bruno tried to make a rat band before. Unfortunately it didn't work out... Rats can only do so much...

Pepa cannot be trusted in the kitchen worth her life.

Julieta let her cook ONCE and sworn off it ever again. Not without supervision at least.

Sometimes Bruno is the unfortunate volunteer to be Pepa's supervisor. Anytime she put something that completely did not go in the dish, he'd follow up with something that he knows will at least make it better.

When they were younger, Pepa and Bruno would go joyriding on her bike. Poor boy nearly lost his soul each and every time.

Dolores and Mariano's first date was completely set up by Isabela as she is the ultimate wingman. However Camilo tries to sabotage as protective siblings do.

It's a whole cartoon plot going on between Isabela making the date go great and Camilo trying to ruin it.

All exotic plant experimentation happens in Isabela's room in order to avoid cases of invasive species.

A scrapped concept of Isabela's powers was that she could also make sentient plant people (potatoes specifically).

I have an AU in the works with this idea but for now, just imagine. Her little potato army.

Mirabel has never been more terrified of an idea in her life.

Camilo will have moments where he walks into Mirabel's room out of nowhere and plops his head on top of hers while she's sewing.

Mirabel stopped questioning it after the third time. He just wants to be around her and she doesn't mind the affection.

After she's done, they'll go and commit twin crimes.

Pepa is usually the one breaking up a fight between Dolores and Camilo while Félix and Antonio sip juice out on the patio. They do not see therefore it does not exist.

Félix is the type to put them in a get-along shirt and tell them to figure it out.

Isabela is always this close to wrangling Camilo's neck.

If not for the spirit of Abuelo Pedro watching over him Isabela probably would've gotten it done by now.

As much as I love the idea of cousins being forever wholesome with each other, we have to admit that realistically, they're also all gremlins towards each other.

Mirabel and Camilo once broke a vase to which Dolores heard loud and clear. They begged her (or in Camilo's case, threatened) her not to tell. She promised... And then proceeded to yell "ABUELAAAAAA-".

Remember my "Mirabel and Isabela fist fight" headcanon? Yeah that would happen with Isabela and Camilo if the boy didn't run for his life most the time.

Camilo is a full blown clothes thief, whether it be his sister's or his cousins' dresses. Don't blame him that they look good on him.

Luisa and Antonio are the only safe ones from this. One's too big and the other's too small.

Anytime Isabela and Mirabel would get into an argument, Luisa would just pick them up by their clothes' collars and simply hug them until they stopped. Works every time (plus free cuddles!).

Even Casita has its moments where it'll lift up a floorboard to trip up someone or bonk someone with a door. Mischievous house it is.

All in all, cousins will be cousins but they grandkids all love each other down to the very bone.

This has gotta be the longest one so far... May be a bit of a break before my brain comes up with more ideas, but that's all for now!

#encanto #encanto headcanons #mirabel madrigal #bruno madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #alma madrigal #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #agustín madrigal #camilo madrigal #félix madrigal #antonio madrigal #dolores madrigal #mariano guzman #casita madrigal #disney #absolutely adore this family

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wordsnstuff · 3 years

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Guide to Drafting

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

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Planning v. Discovery

The first thing you must decide when you embark on the journey of drafting a story is how you’re going to get it done. Typically, there are two groups you can fit into, though most writers are somewhere in between. There are writers who plan meticulously before they begin writing to create a very clean first draft, or there are discovery writers (otherwise known as “pantsers”) who find more success in choosing a premise and then using a zero draft to explore the idea before gluing down any details. You are most likely someone who falls between those two methods. Some initial planning to feel familiar with your idea before you do some of the planning through the writing itself. Having some semblance of a method will help you narrow down your own process, which is immensely important if you want to get any substantial project near completion.

Consistency

Drafting is a difficult process because it’s either the revisitation of ideas you’ve already had, or the generations of ideas in quick succession. If you want to have a draft in a reasonable amount of time, you must develop a consistency in your writing. I won’t say that it must be a strict routine because time management can be a luxury, but you must make the consistent effort to write, and keep it in the forefront of your mind. Even if you don’t write every day, it should be something you try to make time for every day.

Know What You’re Trying to Accomplish

To get a draft done, you need to set expectations for yourself and they must be realistic. That doesn’t mean they have to be easy, or an amount of work you’ve been able to accomplish in the past. Considering how much time you dedicate to writing and your skillset, it should be a goal within reality. In addition, you must accept that you cannot create a masterpiece in one draft. For each version of your story that you write, you must have a focused goal, such as maintaining consistent characterization, making the plot concise and engaging, or making the prose more fluid and efficient. If you have a specific and attainable goal that you can accomplish in a reasonable amount of time with a fair amount of precision, each draft will be better than the last.

Designate Work to Phases

As mentioned in the last section, it maximizes your time and effort to have specific and attainable goals for each draft. This doesn’t mean that you rewrite the draft each time (though that is very common amongst writers), but that you designate tasks to draft versions. I find it very helpful in clearing my mind and soothing my perfectionist anxiety to make a “schedule”, outlining what I’ll accomplish in each version following the zero draft. For example, my draft schedules usually end up something like this:

Zero Draft: Main plot line, basic characterization, key world building

First Draft: Finalize Timeline, research for world building, structure

Second Draft: (Rewrite) Plot Development Fine Tuning

Subplot development

Foreshadowing

Build up to climaxes

Tone & Pace

Third Draft: (Intermittent Rewrites) Character Development Fine Tuning

Backstory

Subtextual Development

Making sure motivations are clear

Relationships between characters

Reinforcing character arcs

Checking dialogue

Fourth Draft: (Give to Beta Readers) World Building & Prose

Descriptions & Flow

Finalize settings

Checking grammar & punctuation

Reader Immersion

Fifth Draft: Incorporate Beta Reader Feedback

Write for Yourself First

In what some call the “zero-draft”, there are no rules. This draft is purely for your eyes. It’s you telling yourself the story for the first time. So, you don’t have to write in chronological order, or know the right word you’re looking for, or take a break every time you run into a problem. The purpose of the zero draft is to get a rough idea of as much of the story as you can and avoid getting snagged on minor details. This part is important. A lot of writers like to outline meticulously before they begin drafting and if that works for you, that’s great, but the majority of writers who attempt that get stuck in the planning phase, or burnt out on their story before a word of it exists. The easiest way to avoid those two situations is to do a zero draft, which can be as long or short as you want if it provides a skeleton for you to add meat to later.

Common Struggles

~ How do you estimate the number of words/chapters?... That depends on the genre, mostly. However, that’s usually something you decide in the second draft and beyond, and it can vary because of factors you haven’t got locked down until the plot and character arcs are firm or final. This is also something you’ll probably do a lot of tinkering with, and receive feedback on, especially from beta-readers, who can advise you on where natural breaks could occur from their perspective.

~ Why, after planning everything out, do I always struggle to write the draft?... 99% of the time, it’s because you’ve either burned yourself out, or accumulated too much pressure. When you put that much effort and time into a story, you can either slip into a headspace where you feel little excitement about it because you’ve already done all of the problem solving and had all of the revelations. It’s usually beneficial at this stage to take a step back (even if you’re not burnt out) and give your story some space, so that once you come back to it, you’re enthusiastic enough to fully realize your vision. If instead you’re struggling to write because you feel a lot of pressure to do justice for a story you’ve put so much love into already, take a step back, remember that the first draft is just for you, and work on letting go of the idea that the zero draft is meant to serve any purpose beside simply existing.

~ How do I come up with the necessary scenes to move the story forward between major plot points?... Most writing problems can be solved by asking yourself the right questions. When you’re trying to figure out what your reader needs to see next in order to effectively set up the next major event, ask yourself “What would happen between event A and event B that would add context or make event B more impactful?”. Treat it like a real situation and try to map out all of the tiny, notable moments that would take place between the major plot points, and then assess those moments on the basis of how impactful they would be to the coming scenes, and whether they can add context, set the tone, or aide in the rising action.

~ How do I balance sticking to the draft and following my own creative instinct in the moment?... This is a judgement call. Sometimes you’ll realize that maybe you should have just stuck to the outline, but remember that you can always go back, rewrite, test things out, etc. Always save every version of every scene, just in case, and go wild. Don’t be afraid to take detours just to explore. The writing process is anything but linear.

~ How do I maintain momentum in my writing progress when I constantly have distractions or other responsibilities that take priority?... Work at it. There’s no magic trick or piece of advice I could say that gets rid of your personal responsibilities. Write when you can, don’t make excuses on top of the reasons you have no control over, and remember that you create your own deadlines and expectations. Be kind to yourself, do what you can, and don’t spend potential writing time punishing yourself because there isn’t as much as you’d like.

~ How should I designate space (words/pages) to specific scenes/description/conversations, etc?... Trust your instinct and remember you can always cut/add later. In the earlier drafts, I’d advise you try to create as much material as possible to work with, and in the later drafts, be ruthless when determining what is necessary and adds value, and what doesn’t.

~ How do I finish a draft if I regularly lose motivation or interest in my projects?... Accept the fact that motivation is fickle, and that no writer in history has ever maintained “inspiration” for any project from the beginning to the end. There are going to be days where you’re like “ugh this is not what I want to do right now”, probably more than there are days where you’re stoked to work on your project, but that’s reality. If your goal is to finish a draft, you must recognize that writing is work, and nobody wants to work all the time. Try to supplement the lack of motivation by setting a positive and enjoyable routine so that, even when you’re not particularly motivated, you still know that your writing time will be peaceful and comfortable.

–

Masterlist | WIP Blog

If you enjoy my blog and wish for it to continue being updated frequently and for me to continue putting my energy toward answering your questions, please consider Buying Me A Coffee, or pledging your support on Patreon, where I offer early access and exclusive benefits for only $5/month.

Shoutout to my $15+ patrons, Jade Ashley and Douglas S.!

#writing #writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #resources for writers #writing reference #writing help #writespo #writing inspiration #writing motivation #inspiration #motivation #drafting

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3wisellamas · 3 years

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Giant Sweet Cap’n Cakes Headcanon Masterpost!

(Fun fact, I thought most of these up while on one REALLY long hike. ^^; You can tell I fell for these three pretty hard.)

Music:

-I like the idea that, while the three all share a love of hip hop, glitch hop, electronic music in general, and a little lo-fi for chill times, they all have different tastes outside of those. (Meaning if you pass them the aux cord, they WILL argue!)

-Sweet's actually the biggest audiophile of the group, with by far the most eclectic tastes; he will literally put together playlists that go from dubstep to heavy metal to classical to rap to vaporwave to even country. The others don't really get it, but they're cool with whatever he puts on, and learn a lot of new music from him!

-He also owns an electric guitar, which he just plugs into himself to use as an amp and plays early in the morning to wake the others up if needed (he's the early riser and the other two are night owls...)

-Cap'n's definitely got a more narrow focus than the other two; he likes rap and also R&B, jazz, and even a little swing/electro swing. He's also been caught more than once listening to cheesy romantic pop songs, claiming he's just into them for their potential madamoizel-attracting uses but really he's just a sappy romantic.

-He can also rap, very well in fact, and gets Sweet to beatbox while he freestyles.

-Heck, he's just got a good singing voice in general, helped by having a built-in autotune, and dominates at karaoke!

-K_K also has a really broad range, but stays more towards the electronic end of the spectrum -- melodic dubstep, synthpop, disco, trance, chiptune, DnB, even occasionally puts on straight-up ambient spa music to chill out to (the only genre the other two will NOT tolerate.)

-K_K has also, in the past, set up entire mini-raves just by themselves, complete with glowsticks and everything, while Cap'n and Sweet were out doing whatever. They were...not pleased, when they got back, mostly because they weren't invited. All three got to have one together eventually though.

-Physical media is king in their shop; if it's not on a CD, cassette tape, or a vinyl record (or an 8-track, though they have to dig out their old player for it), they will refuse to play it, and might even ask you to leave. "MP3" is an extremely dirty word to them.

-(In fact, they don't get along too well with the MP3 player-headed robots elsewhere in the city.)

-They are indeed always listening to music on physical media as well -- K_K and Cap'n are their own CD players (though Cap'n's one of those models that's also got a built-in FM radio), while Sweet has a straight-up Walkman.

-(He's also the group's cassette champion, claiming his media of choice is superior to CDs because you can record music on BOTH sides of the tape! The other two just don't have the heart to point out that each side only holds half as much music as a CD, and you don't even have to rewind those...)

-Jury's still out on Hit Clips. Cap'n and Sweet think they're just toys, but K_K genuinely collects and appreciates them and treats them like actual music (it helps that they are only around four seconds long!)

-Believe it or not, the headphones are only decoration, all three actually just...listen to their music entirely within their own heads, though they can also switch to playing it externally on their speakers as well. Perks of being robots! Though, sometimes K_K has his internal volume up too high, and misses things that other people say because of it.

-Sweet also has an input port, and connects himself to his turntable to act as the speakers! The other two are WAY too embarrassed to ask if they can use it as well.

-Sweet can play almost any instrument you throw at him, as long as it's not a woodwind (Surprisingly, he can do brass, since those work on vibration rather than air!). He prefers his guitar or violin when he isn't spinning records on his turntable. Where the other two just enjoy music, he's the actual trained musician.

Voice headcanons:

-Sweet: Kind of deep, bass-y, lots of reverb, a slight tinny audio distortion to it like a low-quality recording that becomes much more pronounced when he gets upset or starts shouting. And since he's a speaker, you can literally feel the vibrations he makes when he's speaking!

-Cap'n: Scout from TF2. I am sorry, but I absolutely cannot get that out of my head for him. XD However, he's actually putting that voice on as an "accent" of sorts, his real voice is actually super autotune-y like K_K's, and it comes out whenever he gets flustered, his pitch only getting higher and higher as it gets worse...

-K_K: Pure autotune, he can just do whatever the hell he wants with his voice -- pitch, tone, whatever, and while he tends to keep it a little higher he can and does change it to fit his mood! He often has a completely different voice every day, but the others are used to it. He also just straight-up vocalizes sound effects (like, the kind that make you go "How did you just make that sound with your mouth?!") and can mimic other people perfectly (though the slight mechanical distortion does give it away). There are absolutely no rules when it comes to K_K's voice.

-They harmonize perfectly whenever they sing together!

Sweet:

-I like to think Sweet's actually the brains of the group; like, not SMART, he just holds their one collective braincell most often. He does any technical work when they're building stuff, like soldering circuits or the occasional programming, and even handles a lot of the actual business operations and pays the bills. The other two also like to follow his lead when it comes to rebellion plans, even if he’s not the official leader.

-That said, though? It's balanced out by him being rather hotheaded and having the shortest temper by a lot. There are REASONS why he's not usually out selling bagels with the others -- he's unfortunately prone to some more "extreme" sales tactics, like hurling half their stock at random passersby until they finally agree to buy some. On the plus side, he's always the first to step up to defend the gang from anything that dares to harm them, and is always on guard.

-He can also hold a heck of a grudge -- don't ever get on his bad side! Cap'n and K_K are mostly immune to this though, if he gets upset with them he works through it by the end of the day. It helps that they can all hug it out.

-He's a bit of a perfectionist, often working overtime to try and get everything they build exactly right. He can get really frustrated when things don't work out the way he plans, or when he can't make sense of a problem, or when Cap'n and K_K are goofing off instead of doing their part, and needs to go blast some loud music and blow off steam.

-He does have a really tough time keeping his balance, since his head is a bit heavier than the rest of his body, but he takes tripping over his own feet constantly in stride. The biggest problem he has is with dancing -- while he'll join in with the others on occasion, he can't match their more acrobatic moves and sticks more to actually PLAYING the music they're dancing to.

-He's also really, really unlucky, just in general. He actually considers the other two his good luck charms, since they help him out whenever he trips or gets into a bad spot!

-He's the fashionista of the group, surprisingly. It's difficult for him to find clothes that fit his body, so he tends to get a little creative with it and has a whole closet full of different stuff! And since Cap'n is roughly the same size they'll occasionally swap jackets.

Cap’n:

-Cap'n actually has managed to score a handful of dates with girls in the past! However, NONE of them went well, and only one actually made it to the second date (only to break up right in the middle of it), so he always ends up returning home heartbroken and in tears. Sweet and K_K, by this point just ready for it whenever they hear that he's going out that night, always dry him off before he shorts himself out, take him to bed and cuddle with him (platonically, I don't see them as brothers but I also don't see them as having that conversation until Cap'n's ready, which he clearly is NOT), remind him that it doesn't hurt forever and he isn't unlovable and that he'll find someone eventually, etc.

-They have sat him down multiple times to try and gently suggest to Cap'n that he might just not be into women? And that he’s actually turning them off by trying so hard? To which he's always just like "No, of course not. I'm straight. Love the ladies. Totally. Oh no they didn't catch me checkin' out that one dude earlier did they? Is that what this is about?!"

-(Basically, Cap'n is just a hopeless romantic in love with the idea of being in love, but is absolutely clueless as to how it works or what he actually wants, and his best buds are always there to catch him when he falls. ;v; )

-The glasses are prescription -- he's SUPER nearsighted, a hardware glitch he refuses to fix. Sometimes when he's working on something close up he'll take them off, panicking when he can't find them afterwards, only to have the others point out that they're just on his head. He’s also got non-tinted glasses, but you will not catch him DEAD wearing those unless it’s an absolute emergency.

-This dude is SUPREMELY insecure with himself. Like, his rather questionable fixation on romance aside, he basically runs off of others' validation, the "cool" persona he's spent much of his life building up being how he hides the fact that he isn't really sure who he is, or what he wants to do with his life, or what he's even good for -- the others have learned to check on him now and then whenever he hides away in the back of the shop, since he can slip into some pretty dark places when left alone to sulk. It took a long time for him to open up even to them to share his feelings, and sometimes still has doubts about whether they or anyone else really care about him as more than just The Smooth One...

-He's the only one of the three to actually enjoy the occasional silence, especially when he's trying to think, or whenever he's upset. So, his headphones also serve a dual purpose -- they're noise-cancelling!

-He's the video guy, carrying around a small camcorder and constantly trying to record the group's activities, to put together into music videos! He also just likes to record himself doing stupid stunts for posterity, though K_K just takes these and makes (affectionate) blooper reels.

-Cap'n is not his real name, similar to K_K. However, unlike K_K, he refuses to say what it is, just that it's embarrassing.

K_K:

-K_K has a bad habit of just completely zoning out when he gets into his music, getting completely lost in the groove and needing to be pulled back to reality. It's not a bad thing during jam sessions, but at work, or in the middle of a battle...not so much.

-He kind of needs to have some kind of music going at all times -- silence drives him absolutely CRAZY! Though, because he gets distracted by his own music, he then misses out on entire conversations, only tuning back in towards the end. Sometimes the other two have to repeat or summarize what they just said for him.

-He knows sign language, and taught the others to use it. They're able to communicate reasonably well no matter how loud their shop gets, or on days when K_K isn't able to form words properly (he's just shy, and even when he isn't he gets tongue-tied a LOT).

-He's easily the best dancer of the three, and uses his extendable body to get really creative with his moves! He even knows a little ballroom, somehow, which he'll pull out sometimes to make the others laugh.

-(Seriously, K_K CANNOT stand to see Sweet or Cap'n not smiling. He'll do anything to keep the group's spirits up, usually cracking jokes during a scrap project or doing little favors, and they appreciate all his efforts!)

-K_K has the WORST sleep cycle, ever. If you let him, he will stay up all night working or partying, finally going to bed at 6AM, and will then sleep until 6PM if the others don't wake him up at some point. If they know he was up really late they'll let him sleep in a little, but he's often pretty sleep-deprived and running solely on sugar and caffeine, which doesn't help his natural loopiness.

-He is a VERY physical guy. Seriously, he will just scoop up and hold Sweet or Cap'n like a cat every five minutes; at first they were just like "Oh. Okay. We're hugging now I guess," but after a while they got more used to it and even anticipate when K_K is going to do it. And he also initiates tons of snuggles and gives piggyback rides whenever one of his bandmates (usually Sweet) requests.

-K_K actually scrapbooks, collecting pictures and little mementos of places he and the others have gone and things they've done. After the library fountain is sealed, he pulls them out to show everyone else from Cyber City and reminisce about home.

-It's very hard to make K_K angry, since he tends to stay super chill and brushes off almost everything. But, on those very, very rare occasions when something does get under his metal outer casing, he'll go full-on silent treatment, not speaking to anyone for up to a week as he sulks and stomps around the junk shop, and even refuses to play any music! And no amount of sweets or hugs or cheering up will bring him out of it, either; the other two have learned to just wait him out and let him have his space, letting him come to them when he's finally ready to talk about it.

Misc:

-Though all three love everything sweet, K_K's the only one who really goes overboard with it, making whole meals out of candy. Sweet, ironically enough, actually prefers more salty/savory snacks, while the less is said about Cap'n's hot sauce addiction, the better.

-Okay, actually, I will say more about it. Cap'n loves spicy food in general, and literally drinks tabasco sauce right from the bottle. However, he's got a bad habit of daring himself to eat hotter and hotter stuff, ESPECIALLY if someone is watching, and can easily get in WAY over his head before begging for milk.

-They also all totally drink battery acid like Queen.

-Heck, being both Darkners and robots, they can really eat literally anything. Normal food, milk, oil, batteries, gallons of pure sugar, toothpaste, moss, glitter (NEVER let K_K get hold of any though, he gets lost in the sauce), broken glass, etc, and of course their own deep-fried CDs. Only thing they can't do is water, since, you know, robots.

-With a lot of the aesthetics of Cyber City being close to turn-of-the millennium and early 2000s (CDs and boomboxes, popup ads, wired mice, Queen theorized to be one of those see-through iMacs, EVERYTHING about Spamton), I like the idea that the boys DO NOT have smartphones, and if you handed them one they'd have no clue how to use it or what to do with it. But they do have cell phones: Sweet's got an old flip phone covered in stickers (courtesy of K_K), Cap'n splurged for one of those that slide open and with a camera (he set his background to a tiny, grainy photo of the three of them!), and K_K has one of those indestructible Nokia bricks, that Sweet got him after he kept breaking all his other ones. They can all text, but that's about as high-tech as they get.

-Same with tablets or newer computers in general, they might share one tiny netbook at most. Cap’n never remembers to log out of his Dark World dating profile, so the others will snoop or post embarrassing things to it.

-They're really, really durable, even without milk -- they're made of 90s plastic and electronics, so it takes a LOT to take one of them down! Plus, they regularly repair each other back at the shop (it took a LONG time for them to gain enough trust to physically open and work on each other), so as long as at least one's left to drag the other two to safety they'll be just fine.

-However, if they get splashed with water, caught in the rain, or worse, drowned, they will short out, or shut down on the spot to prevent damage. Once they completely dry out, though, they'll start right back up, no worse for wear. When only one of them gets waterlogged the other two will break out the hair dryers to dry them out faster, or even pop them into the oven in a pan of rice like an iPod that got dropped in the toilet...

Finally, backstory?

-Cap'n and K_K met first -- maybe both as new recruits to another, much less savory gang of music equipment robots, and bonded as a result of being put upon by the more established members (Cap'n probably even had to defend K_K more than once when his inattentiveness got him into trouble!) But, they both had enough one day, and decided to break off and form their own thing, making music and selling CD bagels to support themselves.

-Sweet, meanwhile, has the complete opposite background, coming from a rich and important family of musicians in Cyber City who regularly entertained Queen in her mansion (hence why he always used to get sweets from her!) But, he was kind of the black sheep, preferring his own style of music, and decided to strike out on his own as a street musician instead.

-They met when Cap'n and K_K accidentally set up to sell bagels on Sweet's usual corner, and he battled them to reclaim his turf. But, they were evenly-matched (even two-to-one; Sweet's definitely the strongest of the trio!), and impressed each other with both their fighting and musical skills, so Sweet decided to join their tiny group, and thus Sweet Cap'n Cakes was formed.

-After the whole situation with Queen is resolved, SCC turns their rebellion into an anti-DRM kind of thing? Nobody can hold back the music, man!

#deltarune #sweet cap'n cakes #deltarune sweet #deltarune cap'n #deltarune k_k #sweet #cap'n #k_k #emheadcanons

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renaerys · 3 years

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Has anyone said “38. That ass is highly unprofessional” for Reds yet? Because I feel like the comedy potential is enormous

38. “That ass is highly unprofessional.”

There are far too many good scenarios for this excellent prompt and idk if I picked the best one, but an effort was made. 🤡

Send me a prompt and some characters! Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we're getting creative here.

List of prompts

xxx

Blossom watched from across the room as Brick fist-bumped the head delegate from the China team. He’d been cagey and weirdly subdued all morning, but the moment the unmoderated caucus began, he slinked away without anyone noticing. Anyone, that is, except Blossom.

“Russia? You were saying?”

Blossom snapped the pencil she’d been holding between her fingers. Denmark leaned back and slowly pulled the cup full of fresh pencils out of her reach. “What? Oh, right. I’m proposing we form a sub-committee to begin formal negotiations.”

“No way, we don’t negotiate with terrorists,” said Canada. “Terrestrial or otherwise.”

The United States stood up and palmed his fist. “Agreed. I say we nuke ‘em before they can nuke us.”

“Oh, sure, great idea, Rambo. This is Model UN, not Independence Day.”

“Wow, super in-character of you, Switzerland. Why are you even here?”

Blossom put up her hand. “We have no idea if the aliens are terrorists. I agree that we can’t discount the possibility of hostile intent, but violence should not be our opening move.”

“Crisis update!” A staffer handed Canada a red envelope, which she read aloud to the gathered students-cum-delegates. The aliens had parked one of their space ships on the Xi’an city wall, destroying a huge chunk of it and killing some civilians, and China was using it as justification to attack with full force.

“Oh my god, I think we might actually be in Independence Day,” Canada said.

“Recess! I’m calling for a recess.” Blossom left the table as the United States, Canada, and a gaggle of European Union countries began to squabble.

She found Brick talking to Israel and Argentina. The minute he saw her coming, he excused himself from the conversation and walked the other way.

“Brick! I know you saw me.” Blossom followed him to the all-gender restrooms, where he was fixing his hair in the mirror. “What are you doing?”

“About to take a gratuitous shit. You might want to get out of here.”

She grabbed his elbow and spun him toward her. “I’m talking about your side conversations. What were you doing talking to China without me?”

“Russia’s a big country, and you looked busy doing your thing. I’m just doing mine.”

“And what, exactly, is your thing?” She peered at him. “I swear to god, if that KGB comment this morning wasn’t a joke and I find out you’ve been threatening the other delegates behind my back—”

“Relax, comrade,” he patted her shoulder, “before you pop a seam in your pencil skirt.”

Blossom could not help but check out her ass in the mirror now that he’d brought it up. Of course, he was also checking out her ass, because he was an uncouth jerk who knew exactly how to get under her skin, and now Blossom was at an impasse. If she told him off, she’d be giving him exactly what he wanted, which was to make her snap and froth. If she did nothing, he’d still win with the knowledge that he’d pissed her off and gotten the last word in to boot.

Much like with terrorists, when it came to dealing with teenage boys, negotiation was not an option; the only solution was total annihilation.

Blossom placed a hand on her hip and stuck her ass out more as she examined herself in the mirror. “You mean, this pencil skirt?”

Brick’s smile fell in defeat like so many doomed German aggressors marching into the heart of Russian winter. “Obviously.”

Perish, you fool.

“Did you see a loose thread somewhere around here?” She turned slightly and ran her finger along the side seam of her skirt in an unbridled act of hormonal militarism. “Or was it on this side?”

Brick rested his weight on the counter because he was weak and cornered and they both knew it.

“No?” She smiled. “Just your imagination, then. We better get back to the conference.”

She made it halfway to the door when Brick hauled his wounded carcass away from the sink counter and desperately fired back with: “Disgraceful tactics, honestly.”

“Me? I’m not the one committing treason and encouraging intergalactic warfare.”

“Hey, I signed up for global warming and nuclear proliferation, not this made up Men in Black bullshit. If aliens attacked we’d just blast them ourselves, no negotiation necessary, we can all go home.”

“Oh my god, so you admit you intentionally sabotaged the exercise! I knew it. You are highly unprofessional.”

“That ass is highly unprofessional!”

“Stop thinking about my ass!”

“I literally fucking cannot after that!”

Blossom fumed. “Are you saying I’m asking for it?”

“I’m saying how dare you expect me not to think about how good your ass looks in that skirt!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault, is it? Well, I’m so sorry for looking amazing in Western business professional!”

“Apology accepted!”

“Good!”

“Great!”

“Fantastic!”

“Wonderful!”

“Incredible!”

“Superb!”

“Glorious!”

“Brilliant!"

Blossom had at least fifteen more increasingly positive synonyms that she could have screamed at Brick, but Denmark popped his head in just as she was getting ready to shout stupendous at top volume.

“Um, hi. We’re taking a vote on what to do about the aliens and we need Russia’s vote, so…yeah.”

The vote was close and also meaningless, since China and several allies acted on their own against the aliens, who of course retaliated and gave the United States carte blanche to bust out the big guns. By the end of the conference, half the world’s population had been eradicated by nuclear weapons or alien technology. It was a complete and total disaster, and Blossom had no idea how she was going to explain it to her Model UN club coach when she got back to Townsville.

“Told you we should have just fought the aliens ourselves,” Brick said as they packed up their things for the flight back home.

“Please stop talking. It makes it harder for me to pretend you don’t exist.”

“Still wearing the skirt, I see.”

Blossom threw her water bottle at him, which was both very childish and very unsatisfying when he caught it. “I’m going to wear pencil skirts every day for the rest of the semester just for you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I dare.”

“I’ll drop out.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I’ll check out your ass every day.”

“Go ahead.”

“I will.”

“Great, because I want you to.”

“Great, because I want to!”

“I’m going to look so good!”

“I completely agree!”

They stormed out of the conference center together.

“See you on Monday,” Blossom said in her best die in a trash heap voice.

“You better wear a skirt,” Brick said as if he’d just invited her to jump into an active volcano.

“I absolutely will.”

“I can’t wait.”

Blossom swallowed a scream and took off flying, knowing she’d be there all day if he didn’t get the last word in.

xxx

“Dude, are you okay? You’ve been aggressively staring at Blossom’s ass all morning.”

Brick sucked on his straw loud enough to draw Blossom’s annoyed glance. “Fuck off, Harry.”

“Are you, like, into her?”

She turned her back to him and power posed with her hands on her hips, which was an extremely flattering angle and a high-key bitch move. “I despise her.”

Harry smiled. “Oh, cool! Cool cool cool… Hey, so I was wondering who I should ask to Homecoming—”

“No.”

“But I just thought since you don’t—”

“No.”

Harry finally fucked off.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #september fic prompts

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